Time Served
by Shadpup
Summary: Emily found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time and she was paying for it. The team is thrown for a loop in the fallout and must work to rebuild the tear in their relationships.
1. Chapter 1

_I'm back. I've decided to do something a little different than my normal posting schedule. I've been itching to post this one for quite a while. I had started it over a year ago, but was hesitant about doing so because I found sometimes when I post weekly, the pressure builds and the writing becomes a chore. I've been having fun working on this in my spare time between whatever story was my current and I don't want that to change. So I'm going to post this once a month or less if the mood hits me. All I can ask is for you to bear with me and enjoy._

 _This is a stand-alone and has no connection to my other stories. It's my version of how Emily left the team in season six._

 _Now on to the normal disclaimers. Criminal Minds and its characters do not belong to me. They are the property of CBS. I only borrow them so I can sharpen my creativity. Also I'm not a shipper so don't expect any of the characters to hook up. In my mind they are a team and friends only. Please don't ask for it because it's not going to happen. Sorry._

* * *

The team sat on the jet returning home after a long tiring case, all with something weighing on their minds. No one was really talking, though not at first. The majority of the ride was spent finishing up shoptalk and then in quiet. Reid was reading and Derek had his music on low. At the front of the jet Hotch was immersed in a case file. And Dave was being Dave, sitting with his arms stretched along the back of the couch, always the observer.

JJ set the magazine she had been pretending to read down. "I hear there's a parole hearing this week for…" she started, but the pointed look from Derek shut her down.

She dropped her eyes to her hands in surrender, but Dave wasn't going to let it lie. After shooting the dark agent a dirty look, he said, "It's this Wednesday."

Reid sighed and moved away, going further into the plane and pretending not to listen from the galley. Dave tried not to scoff as Reid left and Derek turned away.

"What do you think is going to happen?" she asked him.

"I think the better question is what do we all want to happen. Maybe everyone should think on that."

"It would better for everyone involved if parole was denied," Derek muttered.

"You think so?" he asked skeptically, wondering if he could profile the truth. He firmly believed that none of them knew how to feel. How could they?

"Damn right I do!" Derek said angrily. "Granting parole to felons is just letting them get off easy. They should serve out their entire sentence. There shouldn't be any of this time off for good behavior crap. If they do the crime, they do the time."

"Yeah? And would you want that if you were the one behind bars?" Dave jabbed.

Derek shifted uneasily in his seat and glared out the window. "Well?" Dave prodded.

"Come on, Morgan," JJ said. "Would you want that?"

After a long minute, he grunted, "No."

"I didn't think so." Dave resisted the urge to gloat. The goal was to get them to think how the upcoming parole hearing was going to affect their lives, not to rub it in. "I've known you for a long time, I know your history. You've done plenty of things that could've landed you in prison. I'd hope you wouldn't have to face the same judgment and hypocrisy that you're using now, Derek."

He remained silent. Reid decided to rejoin the conversation, nervously fingering the tab of his teabag. "Do you think the family of the two victims killed will be there? I'm pretty sure they will be against it."

Dave shrugged. "What they want may not play into the parole board's decision. It's not like it a felon doing thirty to life for murder coming up for early parole. We're talking about a ten year sentence for vehicular manslaughter, of which, five and a half of it has already been served."

"With the overcrowding in the prison system today a lot of people, even those that really shouldn't be, are being granted early release," Reid stated.

"Still, a few good words from character witnesses could help. Any takers?" Dave glanced at all three, but none of them answered. "Well I plan on attending," he said in disappointment.

He didn't really expect anything different, but he thought more of their character and hoped anyway. Dave slapped his hands on his knees, got up and moved to sit across from Hotch at the front of the jet. He crossed his arms as he studied his old friend.

"You have been very quiet throughout the exchange, Aaron. What do you think about it?"

Hotch looked up from the file he had perusing and glanced briefly out the window, sighing softly. "I don't know what to think," he answered honestly. "I'm not sure what I want either."

"Fair enough. But if parole is granted on Wednesday, you and everyone else will only have a month or two to make up your minds. I already have. After that, everything is going to be different."

"Everything has already been different, Dave," Hotch said. He wasn't wrong. For the past few years, things had changed, and no one had ever really made peace with it.

* * *

Wednesday came quicker than anyone could have expected, and it was time for the parole hearing. Dave was the only one from the team that showed up. He was sad, knowing their support could make all the difference, but maybe it was too much to ask at this time. Dave arrived early to watch everything unfold. The family of the victims was there. That didn't surprise him, but he had been keeping his fingers crossed that they wouldn't be. He knew what their speeches could do, and he shook his head at the thought. Hearing all that was going to be hard.

The parole board was seated at the head of the room, judge and jury to their own courtroom. Dave watched as the parolee was brought in, looking a bit solemn as eyes met the near empty side of the room dedicated to support. Instructed to go to the single seat before the board, practically in the center of the room, the prisoner sat and the hearing began.

Both parties pleaded their case. The family made a moving argument about how it would be too hard to see the person who killed their loved ones on the street, free to do whatever while their family was dead, buried, and incapable of doing anything at all. How could the person who did that, who stole people from them be free? They were aware that it wasn't a life sentence, the crime wasn't murder one, but they wanted every second of the sentence served nonetheless.

Dave asked to speak after that. Chances were, parole would happen either way, but he wanted it known that he was there, showing where he stood. He said kind words, made it clear the prisoner wasn't a monster, just a person who made a mistake. It was a costly mistake, but they did their time and paid their dues.

"What happened can't be excused, but it shouldn't be the only deciding factor," he said. "Bad choices were made, but this isn't a hopeless case."

He went on to say that they weren't looking at a cold-blooded murderer, just someone who needed a little help and got it while inside. What good would it do to have them serve more time when they could be of more use out in the community finding penance some other way?

Dave's case along with the parolee's own argument and taking responsibility for the crime, were more compelling. The board apologized to the family for their loss, but they couldn't validate keeping the prisoner a prisoner any longer.

A tentative recommendation for parole was granted. With that news, Dave smiled along with the newly paroled prisoner. Three weeks later he received a phone call informing him that it was official. Now a new countdown would start, no longer a tally of days served, but a list of days until fresh air and freedom was natural again.

* * *

Emily ran her hand over the bed like she was actually going to miss it. There was no doubt that she wouldn't. She had counted down each and every painful day for this moment and it had finally come. She took a long, slow breath as she pulled together her meager belongings. The pile of old letters had become her prized possession, one of the few things that had kept her sane. She made sure to carefully place those in her bag on top of the collection of books and a few magazines Penelope had given her. There was also a stack of notebooks she wanted to keep safe. Those held all her thoughts from the last few years and there was no way she was leaving them behind.

She looked around. She wouldn't miss anything about being in there. From the side of the bed, Emily scooped up the mp3 player that she considered one of her lifelines. It had helped to erase the quiet. She would need it again, she was sure. She added it to her stuff before grabbing the bag of new clothes Dave had given her to change into. After slipping into the fresh clothes and making a mental note to thank him later, Emily went over the room one last time. All the personal hygiene products she wasn't opposed to leaving so she dumped them in the trashcan. As an afterthought she grabbed up the deck of worn playing cards and tossed them in the bag.

A face she had become all too familiar with stepped into the room. "All set?"

"Yes," Emily said, hefting her bag and following the woman out.

As they made their way along the corridors, Emily kept her eyes forward, looking for the final door that lead outside. She couldn't wait to get beyond the four walls of the building with its unique smell and out into the sun and fresh air. She had been cooped up for far too long. The second she crossed the threshold; Emily stopped and took a deep breath while turning her face to the sun. She smiled in contentment at the warmth caressing her skin.

"Take care, Emily," the woman said. "I hope not to see you back here any time soon."

Emily didn't look back at her. "Thanks and I don't plan on it ever."

Dave, who had been quietly leaning against the fender of his car, gave her a few minutes alone before pushing off and strolling over to her with open arms.

"Hey, Kiddo," he greeted her with a big smile and an even bigger hug. "You're looking great."

"Hey, Dave," Emily said, returning the hug. "And no I don't. You're such a big liar."

He chuckled and released her. "So are you ready to get out of here?"

"More than you'll ever know."

Dave nodded, knowing exactly how she felt about the place. He relieved her of her bag and held out his free arm. "May I escort you to your chariot?" He asked with a humorous twinkle in his eyes.

Emily let out a hearty laugh, a laugh she hadn't felt like doing in a long time. "You may," she granted permission and slipped her arm through his.

He guided her over to the car, gallantly opened the door and helped her in. Then he dropped her bag in the trunk and climbed behind the wheel. Dave glanced at her before putting the car into gear. "Ready?" He asked softly.

Emily sat stiffly in the seat, staring resolutely through the windshield. "Ready."

Without another word spoken between them, Dave pulled away from the curb and headed for the highway for their long drive home. Neither looked back as the Greenblatt Correctional Facility for Women, where Emily had just spent the last five years and eight months of her life, receded into the distance.

* * *

 _Whew! First chapter in the can. Always get nervous posting a new story because I'm afraid everyone will hate it...lol. I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think and I'll see you soon. Until then._


	2. Chapter 2

_Just a little clarification. Emily goes to prison in Season 6 and gets out in Season 11._

* * *

As the car roared its way up the highway to Washington DC and home, Emily gazed out the passenger window. Her eyes weren't taking in the passing scenery, thinking how sharp and crisp everything looked after years of looking at institutional white walls and fences topped with razor wire. They were turned inward, as she pondered, not for the first time, how she had ended up in prison.

* * *

 _With a deep breath, Emily, eyes closed and still half asleep, went to stretch only to have a force stop her. "Ow. Crap," she groaned._

 _Her head felt heavy and her body sore. "Damn. I feel like I got hit by a car." She felt horrible and she realized she was stuck to the bed, a metal cuff ratcheted around her wrist._

" _You wouldn't be far off," a voice responded._

 _Emily's blurry eyes and pounding head moved to find the speaker. "Hotch?" she croaked._

 _An unfamiliar woman stepped briefly into her line of sight and scowled at her. "No. I'll get him," she said gruffly and disappeared._

 _Puzzled by the woman's reaction, Emily looked around. She was definitely not in her own home, in her own bed. A hospital, she determined. Then she turned her attention to her left arm and frowned in confusion at the handcuff securing her wrist to the bed rail._

" _Emily," Hotch said coolly, entering the room and stepping up to the bed._

 _She held up her arm. "Hotch, what happened? Why am I cuffed? Did Morgan do it? Because if he did, it's not funny."_

 _His eyes narrowed as he monitored her response. "You don't remember?"_

" _Remember what?" she answered._

" _They said you might not." He stood intimidatingly tall above her bed and looked her dead in the eyes. "How much did you have to drink last night, Emily?"_

" _I…nothing…I didn't drink."_

" _That's not what your blood levels say."_

" _Hotch…" she looked at him confused. "What's going on? I feel horrible, but I didn't drink. I was home last night. I think I went to bed early."_

" _You didn't have any wine or anything?" he asked skeptically._

" _No. I was exhausted. I got home, took a hot shower and went to bed. What happened to me, Hotch?" she asked again. Everything about her felt off: the nauseous feeling in her stomach and the pains all over, just pieces of the puzzle._

" _Emily, last night, two people were killed in a hit and run."_

" _Oh no…who? Do we know them? Is that…is that what happened to me?" How that could have happened, she had no idea, but there had to be something she was missing. Why wasn't he being straight with her?_

 _Hotch studied her, noting the messy hair, the pale and drawn face, the tired and bloodshot eyes and the bandage on her forehead. Beneath the hospital gown he was sure she was covered with bruises._

" _You were the driver," he said bluntly. "You were drunk and you killed two people as they were crossing the street."_

 _Emily stared at him in shock, eyes wide and brow furrowed. "What…no…that's not possible," she stammered._

" _It's true."_

" _It's got to be a mistake. I was home sleeping," she protested. "It had to be somebody else."_

 _"You were found unconscious in your car about a mile from the scene. You had lost control and smashed into a tree. When you were brought in you were almost three times over the legal drinking limit and suffering from alcohol poisoning."_

 _"But how? Hotch I swear I wasn't drinking. And I... I would never do that. Never, Hotch."_

" _The blood found on the front of your car matched the victims."_

" _I don't know how that's possible. Maybe I…I was set up…"_

 _Hotch blinked. "Why would someone do that?" All the evidence pointed directly to her. From what he could see it was rock solid._

 _Emily could see the disappointment in his eyes and groped for anything that would explain this horrible thing away. "I…I don't know, but someone has. I would never drink and drive. When I know I'm going to have a couple of drinks, I always take a cab. I didn't do this, Hotch. You've got to believe me."_

 _He sighed. "I've called the detective in charge of your case. He'll be here shortly to officially read you your rights."_

" _My rights?" she exclaimed._

" _I hear they may be going for aggravated vehicular manslaughter," he said, all business again. "I would recommend you keep your mouth shut and get yourself a good lawyer. Preferably one who specializes in DUI's."_

* * *

From that day on, the months passed in a blur for Emily. A few days after the accident she had been escorted out of the hospital in handcuffs to a waiting police cruiser, that, in turn, took her to the police station where she was officially charged and booked. At her arraignment, she pled not guilty against her first lawyer's advice. He had suggested she plead guilty or no contest to the charges, but Emily refused to accept responsibility for a crime she didn't committed. Bail was set at $400,000 and she was able to post it by liquidating part of her trust fund though she had to sit in jail for a couple of days until it happened.

Emily's second lawyer was willing to go to the mat for her. He told her point blank that they were probably going to lose, that she was going to end up doing some time, but he was willing to try. He fought hard every step of the way, but without any proof that she hadn't left her apartment of her volition, or of the actual perpetrator, the case was hopeless. After two days of trial and a short deliberation, the jury found her guilty of two counts of vehicular manslaughter. The judge threw the book at her because she was law enforcement and knew better about drinking and driving. He sentenced her to the maximum of ten years for each count to be served concurrently with the possibility of parole in five years if she kept her nose clean. Appeals were filed, but all had been denied.

The team had been present in the courtroom during her trial, but Emily hadn't been sure if they were there to give her moral support or simply to see the outcome of her case. Once she was released on bail, she only saw them occasionally. Each of them wished her well and said they were there for her, but often those words rung hollow. She saw the disappointment in their eyes; she had let them down by her actions. After her conviction and incarceration, the team's visits became sporadic. Some of them never came at all, one of them, she felt, came only out of obligation and the rest of them came at first, but the visits dwindled as her sentence had gone on.

Still there had been one constant in her sad life. Emily glanced at the man next to her. Sensing her eyes on him, Dave took his eyes off the road long enough to look at her and give her an encouraging smile that she returned. Dave had been her rock during her incarceration, her only contact with the outside world. She knew he thought she was guilty and had to do the time, but that didn't mean that she had to go through it alone. Every two weeks Dave drove over an hour for five years to visit her and when he couldn't make it due to a case, he would send her an email so she wouldn't worry why he didn't shown up. He also deposited money in her account every month so she would be able to buy necessities and a few luxuries, like her mp3 player from the commissary. Emily didn't know what she would've done without him. His friendship made the past five years more bearable. They had been hard, but they would have been a lot worse without his visits to look forward to. Now if she only knew how to repay Dave for all his kindness.

* * *

Emily wasn't the only one being reflective. Dave was also lost in his thoughts while driving on automatic. He, along with everyone else, was disappointed that Emily had kept her drinking problem a secret and instead of turning to them, her family for help, she continued to hide it until she made a fatal mistake. It was bad lapse in judgment that changed the course of her life for the worse. He was a firm believer that if you break the law, which Emily most certainly did, you pay the penalty. But he also believed the ten year sentence the judge handed down had been much too harsh for a first time offense. He thought she would have gotten a year in jail followed by a period of probation and community service. Apparently the judge decided to make an example of her, basically telling everyone what he thought about drinking and driving.

But regardless of what he thought about her past decisions, he was still her friend. He wasn't about to turn his back on Emily in her greatest time of need like many of the team had. She needed one friendship in her corner to get through the long years ahead. So he set aside his prejudices and went to visit her the first chance he had.

* * *

 _Dave sat at his assigned table, idly drumming his fingers on its surface. This felt so odd. Normally he visited a prison to conduct inmate interviews, but this was the first time he was here to visit a dear friend. It had been a little over two months since he last saw Emily at her sentencing hearing. She had spent forty days at the intake reception center for processing before being assigned to this facility. Then there were no visitations for new inmates for one month._

 _The buzz of the security gate sliding open caught Dave's attention. He glanced over to see Emily being escorted in. She was dressed in khaki prison scrubs with GCFW stenciled down the front of one pant leg. Beneath the scrub top she wore a white long sleeved tee shirt and on her feet a pair of very new, very white sneakers. From the scrub top pocket hung her prison ID badge with her picture, name and inmate number._

 _The welcoming smile on his face faded the closer she got. Emily was limping and had one arm wrapped around her body as if she was cradling her ribs. But what drew his attention was the nasty looking black eye. Emily's eye was fully open, but the skin surrounding it was a colorful array of blues, purples and greens._

" _Hi, Dave," she greeted him with a combination of a grimace and smile as she eased down on the seat across from him._

" _Emily, are you okay?" he asked worriedly, skipping his own greeting as he studied her face._

" _I'm fine," she said, shrugging dismissively. "It's no big deal."_

" _Yes it is," he countered. "What happened to you?"_

 _Emily shot him a look begging him to drop it, but Dave wasn't going to back down. He continued to gaze expectedly at her until she started to squirm on the metal seat. She blew out a breath of frustration, took another one and locked eyes with him._

" _I was in a fight," she admitted. "Two inmates cornered me in the showers and tried to beat the crap out of me for being a Fed."_

" _You're in with the general population?" he asked in shock. "Shouldn't you be in protective custody?"_

" _I asked not to be placed there."_

" _For god sakes why?"_

 _She transferred her gaze to a spot over his shoulder. "Because protective custody is basically like solitary confinement. I didn't want to spend the next ten years with only my thoughts for company. I couldn't take that. I would rather take my chances with the general population."_

 _Dave remained silent, knowing there was more to come. Emily's eyes drifted back to his and he saw determination in them._

" _In here, your image is everything. Being in protective custody can label you as a snitch or weak. I'm not weak, Dave. I could spend the next ten years with a target painted on my back or I can show them that I won't take anyone's crap. I won't back down. I won't let people bully me. I don't want to be a fighter, but I'll do what I have to do to make it known that I will fight back. I will earn their respect and then they will leave me alone."_

 _On the table Emily's hands were clenched in anger, allowing Dave to see the bruising on both sets of knuckles. She might have been on the losing side, but she had gone down fighting and Dave found himself rather proud of her. To give her a little time to collect herself, he rose and gestured to the vending machines._

" _You want anything?"_

 _Emily followed the sweep of his hand. "Uh…sure," she stammered, thrown off a little by the sudden change in conservation._

 _Dave nodded and went over to the machines to make his selections while making a mental note to bring more ones and fives when he visited again. When he returned, he was pleased to see that Emily had relaxed some from the way her hands were resting palms down on the table. Dave set down two cans of Coke, a bag of mini Chips Ahoy and a Hershey's bar. He kept one of the cans for himself and gave the rest to her._

 _Emily picked up the candy bar, unwrapped one end and broke off a piece. She took a moment to enjoy the chocolate melting in her mouth. "Would you believe they sell stuff like this in the commissary?"_

" _They do?"_

 _"Uh huh," she said, breaking off another piece and popping it into her mouth. "That would be nice, but I have to be careful with the money in my account. I don't have a lot and it's all earmarked for the necessities I'm going to need down the line."_

 _I can remedy that, Dave thought and was about to offer when he realized she wouldn't accept. Emily was a proud woman and would consider it charity. But that wasn't going to stop him. On the way out he would inquire about the procedures to put money in an inmate's account. Once it was deposited, there would be nothing she could really do about it, only yell at him about it later. Of course he would be unrepentant._

 _"That's understandable," he said instead._

 _Emily's eyes narrowed slightly. She had been positive he would offer to help, but Dave just sat there sipping his Coke with a perceived nonchalance look on his face. She was actually relieved that he didn't because she couldn't possibly accept. It was her problem, not his. And she did have her pride after all._

 _Dave's eyes went to Emily's spectacular shiner. "It looks worse than it is," Emily quickly said._

 _"Right," he drawled, not believing her for a minute. "What else is wrong with you, Emily?"_

 _She sighed and went to wrap one arm protectively around her body, but remembered she had to keep her hands where they could be seen. Instead Emily had to settle on putting them around the soda can and slowly turning it. "I've got two broken ribs and a bruised kidney from a kick to the back when I rolled at the last minute to protect my side."_

 _"Were they disciplined?" he asked sharply, angry that she had been assaulted._

 _Emily nodded. "Yeah. They both got ninety days in disciplinary segregation, the political correct way of saying solitary confinement. I got my own version of it," she said bitterly._

 _"What? You weren't the one who started it."_

 _"I'm on what they call convalescence until my ribs have healed enough for me to return to work." Emily squeezed the Coke can until one side caved in. "I still have all my privileges, but I'm confined to my cell during working hours. It's like spending eight hours in solitary every day except weekends."_

 _She didn't mention that she wasn't allowed to lift anything including food trays so her meals were delivered to her cell. She couldn't go to the cafeteria for a change of scenery for twenty minutes. She had also been temporarily forced to switch bunks with her cellmate because she was physically incapable of climbing into the top one and she really disliked sleeping under someone._

 _Dave wanted to offer her comfort, but there wasn't much he could do. She was in a bad situation and offering his apologies or pitying her would do nothing but make it worse for her. That was the last thing he wanted. So, as their visiting time was coming to a close, he changed the subject. They talked for the remaining time and he made a promise to himself to see her through this, to help her even when she was too proud to ask for help, and to visit whenever he could._

* * *

He kept that promise. He visited every two weeks and when a case took him out of town, he made sure to come as soon as he returned. Each time he would have the snacks and soda waiting at their assigned table for her when she was eventually escorted in. They would talk about the current case and the revolving door of temporary agents and what they had done to annoy the hell out of Hotch. When an interesting consult crossed his desk, Dave would run it past her just to get her opinion. Just because she has a drinking problem didn't meant she still wasn't an excellent profiler. Emily was resistant to the idea at first, but as the months passed she had welcomed it as a way to keep her mind sharp. And for the remainder of the visit, sometimes an hour and sometimes longer depending on how busy the visitation day was, they would discussed a current event she had seen on the television or had read in the newspaper.

Given her situation, Emily had her good and bad days, physically and mentally. Some visits she talked his head off and others she was withdrawn and barely spoke. He didn't push her to talk, instead lending her his support through his own silence and presence. Physically, the fight at the very beginning of her incarceration hadn't been her only one. Throughout the years she sported a variety of bruises, black eyes and once a broken hand mainly from the newbies to the prison trying to establish their place in the pecking order by beating up the resident ex FBI agent. Normally ex-law enforcement was at the bottom of the pecking order with the child molesters, but not Emily. She had earned her fellow inmate's respect and quickly put the newbies in their place. Her life had been hard, but she served her time and was now sitting next to him enjoying her first hour of freedom.

Emily speaking snapped Dave out of his ruminations. He glanced over at her to see she was holding a piece of paper. "I'm sorry, Emily. What did you say? Apparently I was woolgathering."

"A lot of that is going on in here," Emily said with a soft smile. "I was saying that I have the address of the halfway house I'll be staying at. You can just drop me off in front."

"I don't think so," he replied casually, looking back at the road.

Emily's brow puckered in confusion. "Huh? But I have to. I would be in violation of my parole if I don't have a place to stay."

"Actually you do. You'll be staying with me."

"What? No. That's very generous of you, Dave, but I couldn't impose on you. You've already done way too much for me," she begged off.

"No friend of mine is going to stay in some crappy halfway house when I have a perfectly fine guest room available."

"I'm used to crappy living conditions."

"Well that's about to change," he remarked with a smirk. "Argue all you want, Emily. I'm not taking no for an answer."

She was about to argue, but she snapped her mouth shut and stared moodily out the window. Dave was right. His guest room would be a vast improvement over a seedy one-room space at the halfway house or the cell she had shared with another inmate for five years. She just didn't want to do it because she would be accepting more charity from him.

"Fine," she conceded with a sigh. "But only until I'm back on my feet and can afford a place of my own."

"That works for me," he agreed. He knew it would motivate Emily to get her life back in order. But as long as she stayed with him, he would enjoy her company.

They drove several more miles in companionable silence before Emily spoke again in a soft voice. "Thank you, Dave. For everything."

He nodded. "That's what friends do."


	3. Chapter 3

Emily let out a low appreciative whistle when they pulled into the circular driveway. "This is some house, Dave."

He smirked. "It's not a house. It's a mansion."

"I'll say," she agreed.

This was the first time in nine years she has known him that she has ever been out to his place. Dave was like her in keeping work and personal separate, rarely having anyone from the team over. Beyond JJ and Penelope, she doubted the guys even knew where she lived…correction…where she used to live. Her condo and its contents had been auctioned off, along with her trust funds, to pay the settlement from the civil action suit the family of the victims filed against her and won. Emily didn't have two pennies to her name to rub together.

To get her mind off the fact she was essentially broke and homeless, Emily said, "I knew writing was lucrative, but not this lucrative."

"It also helps to have a financial advisor who knows what they are doing," Dave added with crooked smile as he drove through the archway and into the courtyard that butted up to a four-car garage.

"Maybe I should try my hand at writing," Emily half joked.

"I think you would be good at it," he observed, putting the car in park and shutting it off.

"Really?"

"Yes. You're smart and creative."

"Huh," she grunted in surprise and gazed out the windshield. "A writer. Well if I did, it would have to be fiction."

"Why is that?"

Emily glanced at him with a small smile. "Your ego would be bruised if I topped you on the bestseller's list in true crime."

"Probably," Dave chuckled and exited the car.

Emily followed suit and waited at the back for him to open the trunk. Both reached for the bag at the same time. As their hands touched, they stared at each other. Emily, being the stubborn, independent woman she still was, wanted to do it herself, but she also knew Dave was a gentleman at heart. So she allowed him to be chivalrous and released her hold on the bag. Side by side they walked up to the door.

"You ready?" Dave asked as he inserted the key into the lock.

"Ready for what?" she questioned with a puzzled look.

"For what is waiting on the other side of the door."

Emily turned her confused look to the door, trying to peer through its solid wood panels. There possibly couldn't be a surprise welcome home party waiting for her because it would be really small one with only Dave and Penelope, maybe JJ, in attendance. The rest of the team wasn't talking to her. And she knew for a fact that it wasn't her mother since she practically disowned her the second the jury found her guilty on all counts. The Ambassador frowned on having a convict for a daughter.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself for what was to come. "I guess so."

"Brace yourself," Dave said with a grin.

He threw open the door, they stepped through and…nothing happened. The back entryway was devoid of all life and activity.

"Well that was anti-climatic," Emily said, arching an amused eyebrow as she looked around. "What was supposed to happen?"

Dave gave her a sheepish shrug. "I really thought Mudgie would be here to give you an enthusiastic greeting. He loves meeting new people."

"Mudgie?"

"My dog. He must not have heard us come in."

He led Emily to the living room and there they found the black lab curled up on his bed in front of the fireplace. The gray around his eyes and on his muzzle told her that he was up there in years. He looked so peaceful and so…still.

"Uh, Dave…" she started.

"He's a little hard of hearing, but at times I wonder if it is more selective hearing than going deaf," he explained.

"Dave," Emily repeated a little louder.

"What?"

"Um…is he breathing? I can't tell."

Dave squinted worriedly at his canine friend and knelt next to him. "Mudgie, old boy. I'm home," he said, stroking the dog's head.

Mudgie started at his touch and looked around sleepily. He thumped his tail when he recognized his person. It took a moment for him to register that there was someone else there and as soon as he did, Dave was forgotten. The dog slowly climbed to his feet and then padded over to Emily, tail going a mile a minute. He let out a soft whine as he nudged her hand, urging her to pet him. Emily obliged after breathing a sigh of relief that Mudgie was still alive. The last thing she wanted to do on her first day of freedom was to attend a funeral in the backyard for the dog.

Dave chuckled at her expression. "It's all right, Emily. I think the same thing every morning he's not up before me and that's happening more than I like. He's a very sound sleeper now."

"That's a sad thing about having a pet. You know it's going to happen eventually," she said in sympathy. Emily was glad she hadn't gotten around to getting a cat she had been thinking about doing. The poor thing would have ended up back at the shelter if she couldn't have found it a home before she got locked up.

"True. But then you would miss out on all the happiness they bring if you didn't do it because they were going to die some time. Have you ever considered a pet?"

Emily stroked the dog on the back as he intently sniffed at her pants and shoes. "I thought briefly about getting a cat before my incarceration."

"Now you can."

"Maybe…someday."

He didn't push her and changed the subject. "So you ready for the grand tour?" Dave asked.

She nodded and Dave dropped her bag at the foot of the stairs to take up later. With Mudgie tagging along, he guided Emily through the house, pointing out anything he thought she would be interested in. He assured that his house was her house and she was free to do whatever she wanted and go wherever she wanted to go. _Except for two places,_ she silently noted. She had seen the new locks on what she assumed to be the liquor cabinet and the wine cellar. Instead of baby proofing his house, Dave had alcoholic proofed it. Emily knew he was only thinking of her, not wanting to leave temptation out that could cause her to fall off the wagon and violate her parole, but it still hurt. He didn't truly trust her.

Emily was still dwelling on it as she distractedly followed him up the stairs and down the hallway. "And here is your room," Dave announced.

"Huh?" Emily blinked.

Dave looked at her with eyes filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "I said this is your room."

"Oh. Great. Thanks, Dave," she said as she stepped toward the door he had swung open.

Just as she was about to cross the threshold, he reached out to stop her. "Emily, have I done something to upset you?"

"No," she lied. "You just caught me woolgathering."

Dave studied her face for any signs of deception, but there wasn't any. Prison had sharpened her compartmentalizing to a fine edge and left a permanent guarded look etched in her dark brown eyes. He sadly doubted she would be able to fully trust anyone again. He nodded that he understood and removed his hand from her arm.

Emily continued in and skidded to an abrupt stop, causing Mudgie to bump into the back of her legs. It was a beautiful room, painted a bright yet still sophisticated green, a color sitting perfectly somewhere between that obnoxious lime and drab puke green, almost bordering on a teal. A queen-sized bed adorned with a duvet in a nice shade of pale lavender sat against the wall, a soft cerulean fleece blanket and matching throw pillows were strategically placed upon it. The room was furnished with a lot of dark wood from the matching dresser and nightstand on either side of the bed to the desk by the balcony doors and the beautiful bookcase across the room. A sitting area was set up in front of the gas fireplace with a decently sized flat screen hanging above it, placed so it could be seen from the bed and enjoyed from the cozy white sofa or armchair.

"Well, what do you think?" Dave asked, grinning from where he leaned against the doorjamb with his arms causally crossed. He had been waiting for this since that day he had gotten the news.

* * *

 _Dave was sitting at their usual spot, the snacks and drinks he had gotten from the vending machines spread out on the table. He always got a 20 oz. bottle of Coke, several years ago the prison had switched from cans to bottles, and a Hershey's chocolate bar because those were Emily's favorites. The other snack he alternated every visit, so this week it was a bag of peanut M &M's waiting for her. A few minutes later Emily entered the visitation room and Dave rose to his feet. He never knew if he should give her a hug so he let her take the lead and tried to read her body language. Today she seemed in the mood and gave him a quick embrace._

 _"It's good to see you, Dave," she said warmly in his ear._

 _"You too, Kiddo," he said sincerely, giving her back a few pats before they separated and settled in their seats at the table. His eyes immediately went to the bruise she was sporting on her right cheek and sighed softly. "Another newbie?"_

 _"Yeah," Emily confirmed with a rueful smile as she opened the bag of M &M's and offered him some. He nodded and she poured some on the table in front of him. "She sucker punched me. Not hard enough to knock me down, but enough to whip my head around."_

 _"And what did you do?" Dave smiled indulgently as he watched her sort her M &M's by color._

 _Emily started with the yellows. "I laid her out flat and walked away."_

 _He popped a few of his candy into his mouth. "Any disciplinary action?"_

 _"Nope. You know the inmate motto: mind your own business."_

 _"See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil."_

 _"Correct. Her fist accidentally connected with my cheek and then her face blundered into my mine."_

 _"Of course." Dave hated the idea that she had to constantly defend herself, but prison was an eat or be eaten world. Emily had to do what she had to do to survive._

 _Emily seemed to be on the fidgety side, rolling and unrolling the candy bag, which was unusual for her. Dave took a closer look and saw something in her dark brown eyes he hadn't seen in a long time: excitement._

 _"What's up, Kiddo? You look like you are about to burst."_

 _Her face broke into a wide smile. "I got a letter in the mail. I'm finally eligible for parole." That felt so good to say it out loud at last. She had been waiting all week to tell him and prayed he wouldn't be called out on a case, forcing her to sit on the news until he finally came._

 _Dave did a quick calculation in his head. Emily has been here for what? Five years and six months so that meant she has served over half of her ten-year sentence. My god! Has it really been that long?_

 _His smile mirrored hers. "That is wonderful news, Emily. When is the hearing?"_

 _"In a month." Her smile faded a little as she continued to play with the empty wrapper. "I know I shouldn't get my hopes up because there is still a strong possibility that they could deny me parole. But I feel like I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel." She glanced at him. "You know what I mean?"_

 _He nodded before responding. "It's good to have hope, Emily. I have every faith you'll get paroled. Just keep your head down until it's time and then do what you need to make the board see the kind of person you really are."_

 _"I can do that," she said with conviction. Emily briefly dropped her eyes to her hands before locking gazes with his. "Will you…will you come to the hearing?"_

 _"Wild horses couldn't keep me away."_

 _"Or rampaging serial killers?"_

 _Dave smirked. "Or rampaging serials killers. I have every intention of speaking on your behalf."_

 _The guarded look that he had watched grow in her eyes as the years had passed softened. "Thank you, Dave. That means a lot to me."_

 _"You're family and family shouldn't give up on another simply because they made one bad mistake."_

 _He didn't add that while they had worked together, he had come to think of her as his unofficial adopted daughter. And when her own mother had disowned her, Dave knew she needed one parent in her corner and gladly stepped into the role. After that they switched the conversation to the team's last case and spent the rest of the visit going over the details to see if Emily came up with the same profile they had._

 _Positive that Emily was going to get paroled, Dave used the drive home to think about how to help her through the transition back into the real world. She was going to need a place to stay. His home was open to her and he would want to make her feel welcomed. There was a room in his house he thought would be perfect for her with privacy and plenty of space, but it was a little too manly and cold right now. A remodel was definitely in order. She would need something to reflect who she was. Dave began thinking of how to describe Emily. She was smart and sophisticated, so she would need a room that showed that, but something upbeat as well to keep her mind from drifting back to the last five years spent behind bars. He just wanted a room that would make her feel as far away from that place as possible, but comfortable all the same._

* * *

"Well, what do you think?"

The first thought that crossed Emily's mind was that the room was at least four times larger than her cell. The second was that it made her uncomfortable. She just wasn't used to all this space. She slowly turned around, trying to take it all in.

"It's beautiful, Dave," she finally said. "But it's all too much. Do you have anything smaller? All I need is a single bed and a window."

The smile he was wearing faded at the corners. What Emily just asked for was essentially a prison cell and what made it sadder was that she was dead serious about it. But when he thought about it, her way of thinking made a lot of sense. Emily had been conditioned by the prison system to believe that she no longer deserved to have nice things or a nice place to stay. Well she did deserve both and much more. And he was going to make sure she knew that, starting with right now.

Dave picked up her bag that was resting at his feet, strolled into the room and dropped it on the bed. "This is David Rossi you're talking to. I only have big, Kiddo. I don't do small."

Emily stared at him and then chuckled. "Obviously." She looked around the room again. It was beautiful and for some reason it seemed to suit her. It was almost like it had been designed with her specifically in mind. "It will be fine," she conceded.

His smile returned. "That's what I wanted to hear. Well I'm going to leave so you can unpack and get settled." He patted his leg. "Come, Mudgie. Lets go downstairs."

Mudgie glanced back and forth between Dave and Emily, trying to decide what to do. Should he stay with this new person or go with his old one? He made his decision and headed for…the spot in front of the fireplace where he circled three times and laid down with a contented sigh. Within seconds he was snoring softly.

"It's okay, Dave. He can stay," she said. "I don't mind."

"You sure?"

"Positive." She looked at the sleeping dog. "At least with the snoring I'll know that he's still alive and he sort of sounds like my cellmate—"

"Ex-cellmate," Dave corrected gently.

Emily gazed at him for a moment and then nodded. "Right. Ex-cellmate. She snored like that."

"Maybe you can tell me about her some day."

She shrugged and looked away. "There's nothing to tell. She's a felon like me. The only difference is I got out and she's still there."

"There's much more to her than that. To both of you."

"Whatever."

Dave knew this was not the time to push her. Emily has only been out of prison for a few hours and it was going to take quite a while for her to adjust to her new situation. Certain behaviors and ways of thinking have been drilled into her until they have become second nature. She has been institutionalized and hopefully not to the degree that time and patience can overcome.

"Have fun unpacking," he said instead and headed back downstairs.

"Yeah. Right," Emily mumbled to the empty room as she looked sadly at the bag sitting on the bed. Everything she owned in the world was in that bag.


	4. Chapter 4

Emily went over to the bag and unpacked it, spreading its contents neatly over the bed. It wasn't much because there had been limits on the number of certain items and everything had to fit neatly in her assigned locker. There were a few exceptions, like her books that she was allowed to keep on a small shelf over her bunk. Then she surveyed the room, deciding where everything would go. She figured it would take less than ten minutes to put away her meager possessions.

The playing cards, book light, and mp3 player were placed in the drawer of the nightstand. In the desk she put the bundle of cherished letters, her notebooks, an expansion file filled to the point of bursting and all her writing materials. Emily paused to examine the laptop sitting on top of the desk, wondering if it was password protected and if it was connected to the Internet. She didn't encounter any difficulties with either. The lack of a password made a lot of sense to her. Dave would have to have easy access to verify that she wasn't visiting any sites she wasn't allowed to. And if she created one, she could end up losing her computer privileges so she made a mental note to ask him if she was allowed to use it and for how long each day.

Emily picked up the stack of books and the couple of magazines, intending to set them on the empty shelf of the built in bookcase so hers wouldn't get mixed up with his. When she got closer and read a few of the titles, she realized they were all her books that she had Dave pick up on his visits when she had exceeded the number of books allowed in her cell at one time. He had kindly sorted them by author and the magazines she had decided to keep were by issue number. As she shelved her armload of books in the proper order, Emily's eyes fell on the complete paperback set of Harry Potter books and remembered how she ended up owning them.

* * *

 _Emily's temper flared when she stepped into her cell and found her bunkmate with one of her books. They had only been sharing a cell for a few months after Emily's first cellmate finished her sentence and had been released. It hadn't started off well. In the first week Emily had caught her stealing. Out in the common area, she was passive, only responding when pushed, but in the relative privacy of her cell, she was the aggressor. She had grabbed Gina by the front of her prison issued scrub top and slammed the young woman into the wall. Nose to nose, Emily told her exactly what would happen if she ever caught her stealing any of her stuff again. Gina, attempting to hold her own, put on a tough face and spat back at Emily in an angry Spanish, figuring she wouldn't understand what she had said. Emily, having the upper hand, responded in the same angry Spanish, catching Gina off guard. A few more hard shakes to reinforce the threats had Gina swearing on her_ _abuela's_ _grave that she would never do it again. Somewhat appeased, they had settled into an uneasy truce that had lasted until now._

 _She stormed into the cell and ripped the book out of the young woman's hands. "What did I tell you would happen if I caught you stealing again?" Emily snarled, waving the purloined book in her face._

" _I ain't stealing. I was just looking at it," she retorted sullenly._

" _You know the rules. No touching other inmate's stuff. I can report your ass for this."_

 _Gina hopped up from her seat on her bunk. "Don't! I didn't do anything wrong!"_

" _You broke the rules," she reiterated._

" _I told you I was just looking."_

" _Why?"_

" _Be…because you get all these books every month." Gina pointed to the books lining the shelf over Emily's bunk._

 _Emily was at a lost. What was the big deal about her getting books in the mail? It wasn't like she was the only inmate who received a package every month. "So? If you want to read something, get a damn book from the prison library. What's so special about mine?"_

" _Nothing. Its just…" she trailed off._

" _Just what?"_

" _I just…wanted to see if I could do it."_

" _Steal?" Emily taunted._

" _No!" she denied angrily._

" _Then what?" Emily pressed, growing tired of this conversation. She had no intention of reporting Gina; only wanted her to think she was to get her to toe the line. She was no snitch and didn't want to be labeled one._

 _Gina sighed loudly and sank bank down on the bunk. "Read," she admitted softly._

 _The young woman's admission took the wind out of Emily's sails. She shouldn't be surprised since the majority of the inmates in here had little or no education, but she still was. Emily swung the metal seat out from under the desk and sat down._

" _You can't read?" she repeated._

" _Only a little. You see, I come from this poor neighborhood where the teachers didn't give a damn if you could read or not. They just passed us to get us out of there."_

" _How did you pass the literacy test?" Emily distinctly remembered the battery of tests and interviews she had been submitted to during the forty days she had spent at the intake center before being assigned to this prison._

" _I'm real good at bluffing my way through tests."_

" _Then why aren't you taking one of the reading classes being offered?"_

" _Because I can't…I can't give anyone any ammunition."_

" _There are other women like you in the classes."_

" _It doesn't matter. I can't be in that class," Gina shot back angrily. "Have you met the teacher? It's a guy who doesn't give a shit about no one. He's worse than some of the bitches in here."_

 _Emily highly doubted that. If the prison system didn't want the inmates to improve themselves, they wouldn't have bothered with all the educational programs. Odds were Gina was simply projecting her insecurities on the teacher. "But if he can help…"_

 _Gina shook her head. "I ain't going."_

 _She blew out a breath of exasperation. "You need to know how to read to get a job. Otherwise you're going to keep landing back here."_

" _You had a job. You were a fucking FBI agent and look at where you are."_

 _The younger inmate had a point. "I made one fatal mistake," she lied. No use saying she was innocent because everyone in here thought they were. "You've made many."_

 _Gina crossed her arms. "I know," she pouted. "I just can't go back there and he uses these books for kids. I ain't reading no kiddie book."_

" _I'm sure they can use a book you would like better."_

" _I said no, alright?" she shouted._

 _Emily repressed a sigh and brushed her hair back off her face as she gazed out the barred window of their cell. There had to be a way to get Gina interested in reading so that she could end this conversation and keep her from touching her stuff. They might be just books, but they were hers. They were the only things in this damn place that she could call her own. Then a thought occurred to her._

" _You ever watched Harry Potter?"_

" _Yeah. What's it to you?"_

" _The movies are based on a series of kids books."_

" _So?"_

" _So did you like the movies?"_

" _Yeah. They're alright."_

" _Then maybe you can use those to help you learn more," she pressed her point._

 _Gina perked up at that. "Really?"_

" _Really. I'm sure you can find them in the library."_

 _There was another vehement shake of the head. "Uh uh. I don't want anyone to see me with a kids book."_

 _Emily felt for the girl and sighed again. "Tell you what. If you stop touching my stuff, I'll see if I can get a copy of the first book." She couldn't believe she was offering this, preferring to stay out of everyone's business. "We can work on your reading after lockdown and before lights out."_

" _For real?"_

" _For real."_

" _Thanks," Gina said with a sudden shy smile._

" _You're welcome," Emily said, hoping she wasn't making a mistake._

* * *

 _Emily hadn't wasted any time in getting a copy of the book. Instead of waiting for Dave to visit and put in her request, she used her phone privileges to contact Penelope directly. She detested using the phone because they were monitored and the conversation constantly interrupted by a recorded message warning the recipient where the call was originating. Every time Emily heard that canned voice, it reminded her that she was the one stuck behind bars. She also made sure to call in the evening when she knew Derek wasn't around. She didn't know if he was aware that Penelope was sending books to her every month and she didn't want to cause any additional tension between the two friends._

' _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone' arrived the following week. Emily kept her promise and every night for the hour between lockdown and lights out, they worked on Gina's reading. It was slow going at first. The younger inmate got frustrated easily, but with Emily's unlimited patience, though Emily had wanted to throttle her on multiple times, and her love for the movies, she finished the book. With each successive book, her confidence and skill grew. When they finished the series, Emily started her on 'The Invention of Hugo Cabret' and by the time Gina had read it from cover to cover, she was chomping at the bit for something more challenging. She said she wanted to read the books those movies with the short guys with huge feet and blonde elf was based on. Emily chuckled at the description and had Penelope send her 'The Hobbit' and the 'Lord of the Rings' trilogy._

 _Gina turned into a booklover and Emily directed her attention to the prison library so she could try different genres and sate her newly developed appetite for books. Surprisingly Emily had enjoyed helping her, it sort of reminded her of how Jack's eyes had lit up every time she had given him a new book. But at the same time, she was glad to get Gina out of her hair and have that hour to herself to do whatever she wanted to do like work on her theories of who had framed her. From there she and Gina got along better and didn't have any more physical confrontations, but that didn't make them friends. Well Emily didn't think they were and had no clue that her act of kindness would have a lasting affect on her future._

* * *

Emily ran her fingers over the spines of the Harry Potter books. Maybe when she got a job, she could start sending Gina some books like Penelope had done for her. She enjoyed getting them; it became the highlight of each month and so she thought Gina probably would like it. She knew first hand what being inside felt like and now it was her turn to make someone else's life easier. It was time to pay Penelope's kindness forward.

She shelved what remained of the stack of books in her arms and returned to the bed to stare at the small pile of clothes. The prison had supplied the scrubs and shoes she had been required to wear, but anything else like the long and short sleeve tee shirts she had wore under the scrub tops, she had to purchase from the commissary. That had included socks, sweats for exercising, shorts, shower slippers and tennis shoes. Emily would have thrown them away for they were a constant reminder of where she had spent the last five years of her life, but she couldn't. Besides the clothing on her back, they were all the clothes she owned until she could buy herself new ones.

With a sigh, Emily picked up the pile and went over to the dresser, intending to shove them in the top drawer. So she was surprised to find it already full when she pulled it open. A quick check of the rest of the drawers and the closet ended with the same result. They were full of everything she needed, from intimate apparel and pajamas to casual and business wear. Emily shook her head in disbelief. Dave had gone out and had bought her an entirely new wardrobe. And what was more surprising was that Dave apparently had good taste. Everything he had chosen, she would have picked out for herself. She looked down at the prison bought clothes in her hands and realized that she didn't want to have anything to do with them. Emily dumped them in the wastebasket, and with Mudgie tagging along, went in search of Dave.

After a few wrong turns, Emily found Dave in his study, staring at a blank computer screen. She perched on the edge of the couch, absently stroking Mudgie's head when he nudged her hand with his nose. "Writer's block?" she ventured.

Dave spun around in his chair and gave her a crooked smile. "Not quite. I'm starting a new book and the first sentence is always the hardest."

"I can believe that. I read your latest book 'Evil Never Rests'. It was really good. Garcia sent me a copy."

"That got through to you? I would have thought true crime books were on the banned reading list. Don't want to give the inmates any silly ideas."

Emily shrugged. "I guess they considered it harmless since they knew I used to work with you. By the way I liked the dedication to your two friends. It was touching."

"They were great guys. If they hadn't saved my ass in 'Nam, I wouldn't be here now talking to you and doing a job I love."

"I'm glad they did. Otherwise you never would have become my friend," she said with a small smile.

"Back at you, Kiddo. So did you get all settled in?"

She fidgeted. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. You didn't have to buy me all those new clothes."

"Of course I didn't need to. I wanted to. Thought it would be nice for you to have some new, up to date things to chose from. I want you to be comfortable." A sly look came to his face. "Besides I didn't do the actual buying. Garcia did."

Emily's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Dave, please tell me you weren't stupid enough to turn Garcia loose in a store with your credit card."

"I'm not that daft. I gave her cash," he retorted with a fake scowl.

Well that explained his sudden flare for fashion. Penelope knew what her taste in clothes was, not him. Now she had something else to thank the bubbly blonde for. She was going to be in debt to both of them for a long time. She got up and started to pace.

"What you and Garcia are doing is just too much," Emily protested. "First letting me stay here and now buying me clothes. I don't…"

"Nonsense," he interrupted. "Just shut up and say thank you."

She paused in mid-step to gaze at him before nodding once. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." At that moment Mudgie started to make an odd little whine. Dave glanced at his dog and stood up. "I know that sound. If I don't let him out soon, I'm going to have a puddle to mop."

"I could do it," Emily volunteered.

"No need. I'll just let him out right in the back."

"But I could take him for a real walk. If that's okay with you," she added hastily, dropping her eyes to the floor.

Dave could see she was on the antsy side and figured some time outside in the fresh air would do her a world of good. Taking a stroll around the neighborhood was a hell of a lot better than one around the prison yard where she had been surrounded by two rows of fencing topped with razor wire, cement, sparse grass and nary a tree in sight.

"I have no problem with that. Mudgie may be old, but it doesn't stop him from going on walks. Hey, boy. Do you want to go for a walk?" he asked the dog.

The dog let out a sharp bark and scampered out of the room. Emily went to follow him, but Dave held up a hand to stop her. "Wait," he cautioned.

Within minutes Mudgie returned, leather leash dangling from his mouth. She chuckled as he dropped it in her hand and she clipped it to his collar. As he pranced around her like a puppy, she asked, "How long am I permitted to keep him out?"

"Just bring him back when the streetlights come on," he joked.

Emily glanced at the watch she had purchased from the commissary and had her inmate number etched on the back. "I can't stay out that late."

"Why?" he asked in genuine puzzlement.

"I have to be back in time for the four o'clock standing count. If I'm late, I will lose some of my privileges."

Dave repressed the sigh that was threatening to escape. A few hours of freedom weren't going to overcome five plus years of prison brainwashing immediately. Only time and patience would be able to do it. "Emily, you don't have any curfews or times you have to abide by here. Whatever privileges you have are yours. You don't have to worry about losing them."

A faint flush of embarrassment crept up her neck to her cheeks. "Right…I don't. Sorry about that, Dave," she responded, but it didn't feel real to her.

"No problem. Have fun you two and I'll see you when I see you," he said with a grin before sitting back down at his desk and turning his attention to the blinking cursor on the computer screen.

"I'll try," she said and headed for the door.

* * *

Mudgie seemed to know the way so Emily was content to let him lead. He didn't set a blistering pace, preferring to walk at her side. But if there were something interesting he wanted to sniff on the other side of the sidewalk, he would speed up slightly and then cut her off. After a few near missed trips, Emily adjusted her pace so that she remained a few steps behind him, allowing the dog to drift back and forth as he pleased.

For the entire walk, Emily was on high alert. She was so used to constantly watching her back that, even when she logically knew she didn't have to be as vigilant, she couldn't help that she was almost in a state of paranoia. She held the leash wrapped tightly around her hand as her eyes peered around. Still, even with that sense of worry, it felt so good to her to just be able to roam. It was like she was experiencing everything for the first time. Seeing the birds hopping amongst the branches of the fully leaved trees. Hearing children laughing as they played. At times, she found herself just inhaling the fresh, clean air in big gulps, like there was a limited supply and she needed to get her fill while she could.

God how she missed it all. She missed the freedom to go wherever, do whatever she wanted, but she still felt a little overwhelmed by it. Emily didn't know how to react to so much independence. For years, she wasn't allowed to decide what, how or when she wanted to do something except for a few things she could do in the 'comfort' of her cell. Now, she was walking a dog in a nice neighborhood. A woman out watering her flowers waved as they were passing and Emily automatically waved back. As soon as her hand dropped to her side, a self-conscious wave hit her. If they knew she had been in prison, would they look at her differently? And then she wanted to smack herself because why did that matter. Her head was all over the place.

Emily hadn't realized she had come to a stop until Mudgie nudged her leg and she gave him a quick scratch behind the ears. "Are you getting tired, Fella? Time to head back?"

Mudgie's answer was to head down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of Dave's house. "Well, that answers that," she said with a chuckle as she followed him.

Eventually the dog took her to a little park and a bench beneath the broad branches of a maple. Mudgie plopped his butt on the ground and looked around expectedly. Realizing he wasn't planning on moving, Emily settled on the bench, not having a problem with sticking around for a bit since she was a tad tired. It was sorely obvious that she wasn't used to walking this much. She had regularly walked the perimeter of the exercise yard, but it paled in comparison to the distance she had covered today. She didn't even want to think about how she was going to feel once she resumed jogging.

They hadn't been there ten minutes when a small mob of three girls and two boys descended on them…or more precisely, on Mudgie.

"Mudgie!" various voices called out excitedly as they clustered around him, hands stroking his fur.

One of the girls, Emily judged to be nine or ten, eyeballed her from top to bottom. "What are you doing with Mr. Rossi's dog? Did you steal him?" she asked suspiciously.

Emily's heart caught in her throat. How did they know she had been in prison? Did her mannerisms scream ex-con or was it burned into her forehead? She then immediately scolded herself for jumping to implausible conclusions. The girl was simply curious because she hadn't seen her before with Mudgie.

"I'm a friend of Mr. Rossi," she explained. "He was busy so I volunteered to give Mudgie a walk."

"Did you bring a ball?" the smallest boy asked. "Mr. Rossi always brings a ball so we can play fetch with him."

"Uh…sorry. I'll remember to bring it next time."

He nodded and all the kids turned back to the dog that was basking in their attention. Mudgie rolled onto his back so that ten small hands could rub his tummy. Then as quickly as they had arrived, they flocked away, going back to their playing.

Emily looked down at the happily panting dog with an amused smile. "So that's why you brought me here. You wanted to be pampered by your adoring fans. You're nothing but an attention seeking hound."

Mudgie woofed once in agreement and closed his eyes; flopping back down to take a nap, but not before making sure his head was resting on her foot. Emily chuckled and glanced at her watch. She still had plenty of time before she had to be back at Dave's for the four o'clock standing count so they could hang out for a while. She stretched her arms along the back of the bench, sighing in contentment and quickly became lost in the beauty of the park.


	5. Chapter 5

The park really was beautiful. Between the kids, the scenery and Mudgie sleeping on her feet, Emily spent hours there without even realizing it. She must have dozed off or something at one point because it seemed liked no time had passed, it felt like she had just sat down. But when she happened to look up, she noticed that the sky was a little darker and a chill hung in the air. Her eyes quickly went to her watch.

"Dammit," she hissed, jumping to her feet. It was already five and she was supposed to be back at Dave's by four. "Come on, Mudgie. We have to go."

Like he could read her urgency, he stood sharply next to her, waiting for the next move. In a frenzied rush, Emily maneuvered them through the park, practically running with the dog to make it back to the house. There was an internal panic happening that was starting to externalize. It was her first day out on parole and she was already screwing up. She just knew she was going to get kicked out.

Her mind was racing as she all but pulled Mudgie along, moving too fast for the old dog's liking. She kept running through the scenarios, the prison mindset still strongly ingrained in her. The fear of so much being a second late was coursing through her veins. And here she was, more than an hour past four, and terrified. What privileges would she lose? What would Dave do? God, he'd never trust her again.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered to herself.

On the way back, Emily took a wrong turn somewhere in the unfamiliar neighborhood and by the time she got them back on the right track, an extra fifteen minutes had been tacked on to their tardiness. It only worked to frustrate her further. Dave was being kind to her by opening his home and allowing her to stay with him. This was how she repaid him.

When they finally returned to the house, Mudgie wanted nothing to do with her, annoyed at how she had overworked his old body. He took off as soon as the leash came off and left Emily to fend her herself. She almost pleaded with him to stay. She really didn't want to face Dave. Actually, she was surprised that he hadn't met her at the door with a disapproving frown marring his forehead.

A vivid image of the prison guards came to her mind. She could see them standing there, intimidating big and tall, batons at the ready. She shook her head to get rid of the unwanted thought. Dave wasn't remotely like them and yet, she was just as nervous. No matter what he had told her before she left, she didn't understand the concept of free rein anymore. She would have no idea what to do with that. She was used to structure and rules. That was what she was still expecting.

Emily debated just ducking into her room and pretending that she had been there all afternoon. But after five years behind bars, she had come to learn that there was no hiding. What was done, was done, and she'd have to face the music eventually. Now was better than later.

With a heavy sigh, Emily told herself, "Just get it over with."

Reluctantly, she made her way through the house. Her step was slow and she was hesitant to push herself into the fire, but she knew she had to do it. That didn't mean she couldn't take her time getting there. It almost seemed like he was gone even though she knew he was home. The house was relatively quiet and he was nowhere in sight. As fate would have it, however, they both had the same idea. In her hunt for Dave, Emily decided to stop and get a bottle of water to re-hydrate and prolong the inevitable.

Dave heard her as he walked into the kitchen, and he greeted her. "Ah, Emily, there you are."

She nearly dropped the bottle in surprise. "Hi, Dave. I'm—"

"And there's my old boy," he said, spotting the dog sitting next to his bowls, water dripping off his gray muzzle. "You must be starving. Want to grab his food out of the cabinet."

"Uh…sure. Yeah."

Emily wearily grabbed the food from the cabinet he had indicated and Dave asked her to put it in Mudgie's bowl. She did, all the while watching Dave and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I just started on dinner. Would you like to help?" He asked as he checked the pot of potatoes boiling on the stove.

"Uh…okay," she stammered, thrown off balance by his nonchalance to her failure to stand count.

"Have you ever made homemade gnocchi?"

"No."

"Then you're about to learn," he said with a grin. "Now wash your hands. These potatoes aren't going to peel themselves."

She did as she was told and for the next thirty minutes Emily forgot all about her infraction as Dave showed her how to make the dough, knead it, roll it into long ropes and cut into one inch pieces. But when he assigned her the task of slicing the cherry tomatoes and chopping up the onion, escarole and parsley while he finished the gnocchi, the thought returned to the forefront. With each passing minute, her anxiety grew as she waited for Dave to berate her for breaking the rules until it became such a distraction that she wasn't paying attention to what she was doing.

"Shit!" she swore when she sliced her thumb with the sharp knife. She raised the injured digit to her mouth and sucked on it.

"Cut yourself?" he asked and she nodded. "Lets get it under some cold water."

Dave turned on the faucet, retrieved the first aid kit, took her by the wrist and held her hand under the water. Emily hissed when the coldness made the wound sting. After a minute he turned off the water and tried to take a closer look at the cut, but Emily couldn't seem to stand still.

He tightened his grip on her wrist and said, "Emily, please stand still. I can't see."

Emily stopped her fidgeting, but not the anxious thoughts bouncing around in her head. "How long will I be confined to my room?" she blurted.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, releasing her hand, unsure if he had heard her right.

She grabbed a cloth and wrapped it around her throbbing thumb. "I asked how long will I be confined to my room for missing the four o'clock count."

He had heard her correctly and shook his head. "I'm going to do no such thing."

"But it was a serious infraction. I was over an hour late. That's inexcusable. I have to suffer the consequences for breaking the rules."

Dave sighed. "The rules you had to follow in prison don't apply here. This is a rule free zone. You are free to come and go as you please. There are no curfews."

Emily couldn't wrap her mind around that. She had screwed up big time and needed to pay for it. "I can do the yard work. That was my job for the first two years of my incarceration."

"Emily," Dave attempted to stop her from saying more, completely giving up on cleaning the cut for the time being. "You don't have to do anything. I've already told you that there are no rules here. As I just said before you're free to come and go as you please. Stay out as long as you'd like. Do what you want. I'd prefer you not to throw any ragers, but if that's a must for you, I'm sure I could let it fly just once," he teased.

His attempt at humor fell flat. Emily remained on edge, not cracking the tiniest of a smile. He pressed on. "As for the yard work, if that's something you found you enjoyed and would like to do, by all means, do it, but it's not a punishment. What you do from here on is a choice."

"But I deserve to be punished," she insisted.

"Stop. You've done nothing wrong."

She couldn't let the curfew idea go. She told him that there were rules. She knew all the rules, and she broke one. That warranted punishment. And it was like she wasn't hearing a word he was saying no matter how hard he tried to drive the point home.

"You've been punished enough for the past five years. Let's call this a freebie. Okay?"

"But I…"

"Emily, we've got food waiting to be cooked, blood to clean up, and a cut to sterilize. You did nothing wrong. You can choose to believe you did, but I'm choosing not to agree."

Was that a good thing, she wondered? Choosing to ignore it wasn't the same as it not happening. Would that be an infraction to hold over her later? A warning?

"Stop thinking so hard and give me back your hand," Dave said, nudging her and holding his hand out for hers.

Emily pulled the cloth she used to stem the bleeding from her thumb. "I guess I forgot how to use a real knife," she joked, trying not to feel so tense.

Grabbing an alcohol swab, he started cleaning the cut and said, "It's like riding a bike. You'll get used to everything again."

"Yeah…" she let the thought simmer as Dave worked on patching her up.

"There you go. You're all set."

"Thanks," Emily said, taking back her hand and flexing her thumb.

"No problem." Dave put the first aid kit away. "I'll give you a glove to keep that clean while we cook. Think you can pick up where you left off?"

"I'll try my best."

"That's all I ask."

* * *

Emily sat at the table staring at the dinnerware. She picked each one up and then carefully placed it back where she found it, not wanting to break anything.

"Something wrong?" Dave asked as he set the bowl of gnocchi on the table.

She jumped at the sound of his voice and guiltily dropped her hands into her lap. "No," she said quickly and then changed her mind. "Well...sort of. It's just that I'm not used to eating off of actual plates and using real utensils. At the prison, meals were served on plastic trays and you ate with a spork. On rare occasions like Thanksgiving or Christmas you actually got to use a plastic unbreakable knife," Emily explained with a sheepish smile.

"You're back in the real world, Kiddo. It'll take some adjusting, but you'll get used to the little things again. He picked up her plate and loaded it up with a large helping of gnocchi mixed with cherry tomatoes, onion escarole and parsley. Emily was too skinny to his liking. Prisons were supposed to be serving healthier meals to the inmates, but it was obvious that she had lost weight while inside. "In the meantime, it's not the fine china so you can be as rough with it as you want to be. Now if you really have the urge to break some dishes, I have an ugly set my third wife left me in the divorce."

Emily chuckled. "No, I think I'm good."

"Good. My dishes thank you." Dave set the plate in front of her and picked up her glass. "What would you like to drink?"

What she wanted was a nice merlot or pinot noir that would compliment the pasta, but she wasn't about to get her wish. Dave thought she was an alcoholic. So did the courts and everyone who heard or read about her conviction. He wasn't going to allow one drop of liquor to pass her lips while under his roof. That was why there were new locks on the liquor cabinet and the door leading to the wine cellar. Dave didn't trust her, didn't have faith that she could resist temptation, Emily thought angrily. But she also knew that he was just trying to make sure that she didn't violate her parole and get tossed back in prison to finish her sentence. That final thought did nothing to dispel the hurt she was feeling.

Emily swallowed her bitterness and said politely, "A Coke will be fine or milk if you have it." For lunch and dinner, the prison had served a kosher beverage that Emily stayed away from after overhearing several of the lifers describe it as the liquid version of mystery meat. Supposedly it was good for you even if you didn't know what was in it and to make it worse, it changed colors from week to week.

"Milk no, but I do have some soda." Dave went over to the fridge to retrieve the two-liter of Coke he had specifically picked up her.

He filled her glass and when he was about to pour some into his, she interrupted, "Dave, you don't have to have soda on my account. If you want to have a glass of wine with your meal, have it. It won't bother me."

Dave hesitated. He wanted to keep everything as normal as possible. Not acting any differently or pussyfooting around the issue that Emily isn't supposed to drink. Yet, at the same time, he also wanted to ease her back into being around it by keeping the house dry.

"It's fine," she reiterated. "Just because I'm the resident drunk, doesn't mean you have to jump on the sober bandwagon. It's my problem, not yours."

In her mind, Emily was screaming, damn right I don't want you to have that drink. If I can't have one fucking glass of red wine with my dinner, you shouldn't be able to sit in front of me flaunting that you can.

The older man must have sensed her true thoughts. There was no need to push the issue this early. After all this was their first dinner together. "Nah," he said with a shake of the head as he continued to fill his glass. "I'm not really in the mood for wine tonight. Maybe some other night."

"Okay. It's your decision." Secretly she was relieved he had decided to abstain. It showed he was more sensitive to her situation than she had thought. Maybe in a few weeks she will be less prickly about people drinking in front of her.

Dave sat down and raised his glass. "To having you home again," he toasted her.

Emily blushed slightly and raised her own. "Thank you for being there. I don't know how I would have survived the last five and a half years without your unwavering support."

"You're welcome." They clinked glasses before taking a sip of their Cokes. "Now lets eat before we start blubbering into our food," he said with a crooked smile. "I really hate soggy gnocchi."

"Sounds good to me," she agreed with a laugh.

She picked up the fork, fumbling with its unfamiliar weight for a minute. Wrapping her free arm protectively around her plate, she tucked into her meal with quite a bit of gusto.

"Whoa! Slow down, Emily," he exclaimed in surprise, setting his fork down. "What's the hurry?"

Emily paused long enough to frown in puzzlement at his question. "I only have twenty minutes to eat."

"You can only put up with me for twenty minutes?" he joked. Again the teasing fell flat. "This is a meal meant to be enjoyed. There's no time limit. Eat at your own pace."

She dropped her eyes to her plate in embarrassment. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"Yes, but it's completely understandable. It's going to take more than a couple hours of freedom to undo five plus years of prison indoctrination. It's going to take time and gentle encouragement to shed the prisoner personae and embrace Emily Prentiss again."

"I know, but it's so hard," she admitted after a minute. "It's the only way I know to live and when I can't do it that way, I feel so lost. I went from living my life the way I saw fit to living in a barred fishbowl where every move is monitored. So closely monitored that you don't have any privacy. This…" She gestured at the house. "Is overwhelming. I'm not sure I can do it."

"You can and you will because that's who you are, Emily. You're a fighter. You survived prison and you'll survive transitioning back into your life. And I'll be with you every step of the way, ready to catch you when you stumble."

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "You're going to be doing a lot of catching, Dave."

"I know and that's why I've been working out," he smirked while pumping his arms in the air like he was lifting weights. "But it will get easier with each passing day."

"I hope so. Promise you'll call me out when I start acting like an inmate and not like myself?"

"You have my word. Now lets get back to our dinners before they get cold. Don't gulp it down. Take time to savor the taste."

"I will."

* * *

Emily was successful in forcing herself to slow down to enjoy the meal and companionship that came along with it. It had been such a long time since she had a meaningful conversation over good food. So good that she had a second helping that pleased Dave no end. Mealtimes at the prison were strictly regulated. You had twenty minutes from the moment you picked up the tray at the beginning of the serving line. You ate what you were given and couldn't go back for seconds, not that you really wanted to. The food was that bad. You couldn't linger. As soon as you were finished, you were required to immediately return to your cellblock.

She pushed her plate away with a contented sigh. "That was the best meal I've had in five and a half years."

Dave wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. Prisons weren't known for the food they served. Was she implying his cooking skills were a few steps above those of the inmates who toiled away in the kitchen?

Emily saw the look on his face and let out a laugh. "Your food is far superior over the slop I had to eat during my unfortunate incarceration."

"Good," he breathed with a relieved chuckle. "For a moment I thought I was losing my touch."

"Far from it." She stood up, gathering up the dirty dishes. "Now sit and relax. You cooked so I'll clean up."

Dave stood with her. "I beg to differ. You helped to make dinner."

"You did most of the work. I just bled all over the countertop."

So began the long and humorous debate over who was going to get the honor of cleaning up, neither one willing to back down from their positions. In the end they compromised. Dave did the washing and Emily the drying so that she could learn where everything went. Afterwards they adjourned to the living room for some more talking and television viewing. Dave let her be the one to pick what programs to watch, an act of kindness which Emily very much appreciated after years of watching tv by consensus that often turned into a tedious and heated debate among the inmates. Mudgie, having forgiven Emily for the impromptu run back home earlier, slept with his head on her feet. At ten of nine, she gently extricated her feet from under him and stood up.

Dave checked his watch. "Turning in already, Emily? The night is still young."

"Yeah…I'm tired," Emily responded. "It's been a long and stressful day."

What she said was true. The first day out on parole was never easy, but he was pretty sure that wasn't the real reason. He decided to call her on it and see if he was right. "You're doing it again," he called out to her as she began heading for her room.

Emily paused with one hand resting on the banister and turned back to him. "Doing what?" she asked in genuine confusion.

"Acting like an inmate."

"No, I'm not. I'm just going to bed because I'm tired."

"If you were still in prison, what would you be doing right now?"

She glanced up the stairs before letting out a soft sigh. "I would be heading for my cell for the nine o'clock standing count and when everyone is accounted for, we're locked in for the night."

"Well, there you go." She proved his point. "If you want some time to yourself, take it. You can wander about or you can head to your room if you'd like, but don't do it because you feel you have to."

"I don't want to."

"That's what I was hoping you would say." Dave patted the spot on the couch where she had been sitting. "Now get your ass back over here and find a movie to watch while I make us some popcorn."

"With real butter? Not the fake stuff?"

"Of course. Only the best for you," he said and headed for the kitchen.

"Hey, Dave?" Emily called out, making him stop in the doorway. "Thank you."

He grinned. "Just keeping my promise. Now find us something good, preferably not a chick flick. An old black and white movie would be nice."

"You got it," Emily chuckled, picking up the remote to find the classic movie channels.


	6. Chapter 6

Emily couldn't sleep. Everything was wrong. The bedroom was too big and quiet. The bed was too wide and its mattress too thick. The pillows fluffy, the sheets soft and the blanket warm. Even the pajamas she was wearing felt off. She was used to sleeping in nothing but a tee shirt, and depending on the season, shorts or sweat pants on a narrow bunk with a hard mattress, lumpy pillow, scratchy sheets and a thin blanket. Prisons at night were still noisy. Through the bars of the cell doors, the guard's footfalls could be heard as they made their rounds, doing the official counts at midnight, 3 a.m. and 5 a.m. And then there were the sounds of the inmates themselves. Throughout the night you could hear them talking, coughing, tossing in their bunks, snoring like her cellmate and the crying from those new to the prison system. It had taken Emily quite a bit of time to get use to it all and she knew that it would take time to adjust to her new living situation, but it didn't make her first night out of prison any easier.

With a groan of frustration, she sat up and turned on the light next to the bed. Emily rubbed at her tired eyes. She needed to get a good night sleep; otherwise she would look and feel like a total wreck when she met with her parole officer, leading them to believe that she was hung over. That was not the first impression she wanted to make, one that could get her tossed back in the joint. Emily rubbed her eyes again as she looked around. There had to be a way to make the bedroom feel more like her old cell. Maybe opening a window would work. She got up and went over to the window, throwing it open. Unfortunately Dave lived in a quiet neighborhood on a large lot and a good distance from the street. There were some nighttime sounds, but they weren't loud enough to give her some comfort.

Abandoning that idea for the time being, Emily looked for another way to get the sleep she desperately needed. In the end she settled on sleeping on the couch in front of the cold fireplace. It was the closest thing to her old bunk she could find. It was long and narrow compared to the queen sized bed and when she curled up on it with a blanket and pillow, she could pretend the arm and back of the couch were the walls of her cell. Emily briefly entertained the thought of digging her prison bought clothes out of the trash and changing into them, but she concluded that was going to far. Even though the couch was still too soft for her liking, it eventually did what it was supposed to do and allowed Emily to fall into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Do you have a radio?" Emily asked the next morning.

Her internal alarm clock had gone off promptly at six. She got up and made her bed according to regulation before taking a shower. She didn't linger under the hot water, in and out under five minutes. But Emily did take some time picking out what she was going to wear for the day, enjoying the fact she could now wear anything that wasn't khaki in color. Then she proceeded to clean the bedroom and bathroom, making a mental note to ask Dave where the cleaning supplies were so that she could do a better job next time around. Once she had the room back to the way she had found it, Emily sat down on the couch and waited for Dave to come and get her when it was time for breakfast.

"A radio?" he puzzled, turning from the stove to where Emily sat on a stool at the island. "I'm sure I have one somewhere. Why do you need one?"

Dave wondered if the radio had anything to do with her late night movement. Despite her attempts to be quiet, he wasn't used to having someone else in the house and was easily awoken by the rustling of her feet. Emily was restless. He didn't know if it was another sign of her sluggish readapting to life on the outside, or if it was just first night jitters, but he knew she didn't sleep well. And he was curious why she hadn't come downstairs. The sound of water running, as brief as it was, told him she was up early so he was surprised when he couldn't find her anywhere on the first floor. Here she was waiting for him to fetch her for breakfast like she needed permission to leave her room to come to the meal. This and the events from yesterday were warning signs that he really needed to keep an eye on her.

Emily played with the salt and pepper shakers. "My cel…bedroom is too quiet," she admitted. "I'm used to hearing the guards making their rounds and the sounds my fellow inmates make during the night. My cellmate's snoring is a good example."

"Oh, I get it. You need some background noise so you can fall asleep."

"Something like that. I could use my mp3 player, but I don't like sleeping with my earbuds in."

His eyebrows went up. "You have a mp3 player?"

She nodded. "Yeah. It was one of the few luxuries I got from the commissary and I can tell you it wasn't cheap. But it helped to calm my mind on my bad days. I don't know what I would have done if I didn't have it. It made me feel like a normal person every time I listened to it."

"I'm glad you did. Tell you what. If I don't have a radio, we can get one of those audio ports that you can plug your mp3 into. Then you can listen to your own music as you sleep."

"Okay. And speaking of the commissary…" Emily reached into her pocket and pulled out a wad of money that she set on the countertop. "This is yours. It's what was left in my account when I was paroled."

Dave studied the money and then pushed it back towards her. "Keep it," he said, turning back to his breakfast preparations.

"I can't," she protested. "It's almost three hundred dollars."

"You're probably going to need some pocket money until you find a job. You can return what's left after you start drawing a regular paycheck. Okay?"

Plus a whole lot more. Emily had her pride and she didn't like to be beholden to anyone even for the smallest amount. So during her incarceration she kept a meticulous record of every penny he deposited in her account and spent on the vending machines in the visitation room. Now she had to add in all the new clothes he bought her. All the price tags had been removed so she would have to ballpark the figure. Emily was going to pay everything back with interest, even if she had to sign over every paycheck to him for the next couple of years until her debt was paid in full.

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed and pocketed the money.

"Good. You hungry?"

"Famished."

"That's what I wanted to hear." With a flourish Dave set a heaping plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and wheat toast in front of her. "Bon Appetit," he said, pouring her a tall glass of orange juice.

Emily eyeballed the food with suspicion. "They're not powdered are they?"

"What?" Dave stared at her in confusion, trying to figure out what she meant. Then it hit him. "The eggs?" She nodded. "God no. They come directly out of the shell."

"Good. I've had my fill of them." She held a hand above her head.

He chuckled. "I know what you mean. I had those back in 'Nam and they are no substitute for the real deal."

Emily picked up her fork and took a bite. Delicious. "I don't want to see another powdered egg for as long as I live. Or watered down orange juice."

"Have no fear. Hotel Rossi only serves the finest food and drink," he said with a wink.

They shared a chuckle before digging into their breakfasts, Dave having to remind Emily only once to slow down and taste the food. When they were done, he didn't argue with her and let her clean up.

"So what are your plans for your first full day of freedom?" he asked, leaning against the counter sipping his coffee.

Emily finished drying the plate in her hand before speaking. "I have to meet up with my parole officer at eleven. After that I'm totally open."

"Do you need a lift? I can take the day off and drive you wherever you need to go."

"That's very sweet of you, Dave and I really appreciate the offer, but I can't accept it. I admit it would be nice to be chauffeured around town by a handsome gentleman," she winked at him, "but I need to be standing on my own two feet starting today."

"I can understand that. Then is there anywhere I can drop you on my way to work?"

She put away the last of the clean glasses. "Just at the nearest Metro Station so I can get a SmarTrip pass. With my driver's license indefinitely suspended, public transportation is the only way I'm going to get around for the foreseeable future. I might as well get used to it."

* * *

Dave wasn't in his office ten minutes before Hotch quietly slipped through the open door and closed it behind him. He knew this wasn't about a sensitive case or being dressed down for some, what he considered silly, infraction. The private little chat was going to be about Emily.

He lost some respect for Hotch and most of the team because of the way they handled the whole Emily situation. He knew Hotch was disappointed with her. Dave was too, but he didn't like the way that everyone seemed to write Emily off. Hotch all but abandoned someone he once considered a friend and a valuable member of his team. That said more about him than it did anyone else. Dave definitely didn't believe Hotch handled it well. During the five plus years she was in prison, he never called or visited with her, and yet, he had the nerve to ask about how she was doing now. That thought had him flashing back to a similar conversation they had a few months after Emily had been sent away.

* * *

 _Dave was poring over a file when he heard a knock on the door. He looked up to find Hotch standing in the doorway. "Do you have a minute, Dave?"_

" _Of course," he agreed, tossing the pen on the desk, happy for any excuse to avoid doing any work. He was feeling rather lazy today._

 _Hotch nodded his appreciation and stepped inside, glancing back out over the bullpen before closing the door. When Dave gestured to the chairs arranged before his desk, the Unit Chief chose to remain standing. This must be serious, he concluded and leaned back in his chair, folded hands resting on his stomach while he waited for Hotch to spoke his mind._

" _Did you visit Prentiss this past weekend?"_

" _I did."_

" _How's she doing?"_

 _The last time he saw her was at her sentencing hearing and had watched with sad eyes as she was led away in handcuffs and leg irons. All Hotch felt was bitter disappointment. Disappointed that Emily had turned to the bottle to deal with her problems and not to her friends and teammates. They all would have gladly helped, but she chose to keep it a secret until two people lost their lives because of her impaired judgment. But most of all, Hotch was disappointed in himself for not realizing Emily had a problem and took the proper steps to get her into rehab. He was an experienced profiler and should have recognized the signs that she was struggling._

" _How do you think she's doing? Emily made one fatal mistake and is going to spend the next ten years of her life paying for it. So I'd say she's feeling a little down. And to add insult to injury, she's just over two months into her sentence and she's already been assaulted by a couple of her fellow inmates for being a Fed."_

 _Hotch frowned. "How could they even have access to her? She's in protective custody."_

" _No, she's in with the general population," Dave said with an emphatic shake of the head. "It was her choice."_

" _Is she okay?"_

" _She has two broken ribs, a bruised kidney and one hell of a black eye."_

" _Why did she make such a dumb decision?" he huffed. "We all know how ex-law enforcement are treated on the inside."_

 _"Emily is quite aware that she is the low person on the totem pole of prison hierarchy. She wants to stand on her own two feet and fight for their respect. Being placed in protective custody can brand you a coward and a snitch. She doesn't want to appear weak."_

" _Prentiss is far from that. She's one of the strongest women I know."_

" _She is and even if we don't agree with her decision, we have to abide by it. Are you planning on visiting her? I know Emily would like it."_

 _Hotch turned away and walked to the window, watching the rain coming down in sheets. That was the million-dollar question. When the visitation application arrived in the mail, he promptly filled it out and mailed it back, but that didn't mean he was going to visit. Truth be told, he didn't think he could until Emily accepted responsibility for what she did. Right now she was still stubbornly clinging to the notion that she was innocent and was set up. He had gone through all the evidence in her case with a fine-toothed comb and came up with the same conclusions the prosecution had. As much as he hated to admit it, there wasn't a frame up. Emily was solely responsible for the deaths._

 _"I don't know yet, Dave."_

 _"What's to know? Our friend is in prison and it's important for her to know she has people."_

 _"She has you," Hotch pointed out._

 _"She does, but she used to have all six of us. The numbers are dwindling. It'd mean a lot to see another friendly face."_

 _"I know. Let's just say I have no immediate plans."_

 _"So you're not going to visit?" Dave didn't keep the disappointment out of his voice. He wanted Hotch to know exactly how he felt about his decision._

 _"I'm not saying never, just that I have no plans right now. We'll see."_

 _"I can't force you."_

 _No you can't, Hotch thought. It's my decision and I'm satisfied with it…for now. He changed the subject and pulled out his cell phone._

 _"I still don't feel great about her being in with the general population. I can call my contacts, pull some strings and get her into protective custody."_

 _"It's not what she wants."_

 _"But maybe it's what she needs."_

 _Dave pointed at the phone in the Unit Chief's hand. "You make that call and you'll be condemning Emily to ten years of solitary confinement. Everything has already been taken away from her. All she has left is her pride. Do you want to be the one to take that from her?"_

 _"No."_

 _"Then honor her decision and leave her where she is. Just pray she doesn't get shanked."_

* * *

Dave's thoughts jumped back to the present. If Hotch really wanted to know, he could've taken the initiative, manned up, and found out from the source herself. But he kept that to himself, taking the higher ground.

"Did you have any trouble yesterday picking up Prentiss?" Hotch asked, standing in the exact spot he stood almost six years ago when he had last asked about her.

"None. It all went smoothly."

Hotch nodded. "Good and did you drop her off at the halfway house?" He may not have visited Emily in prison, but it didn't stop him from keeping tabs on her. He knew when her release date was, the main terms of her parole and where she was supposed to be staying."

Dave leaned back in his chair. "Actually I didn't. Emily is staying in one of my guest rooms."

"Are you sure that is wise?"

Did he just say that? Hotch had just made it sound like he had just invited a notorious serial killer to dinner. "My decision is sound. If you don't seem to recall Emily lost everything in the civil lawsuit, essentially leaving her broke and homeless. I couldn't in good conscience let her live in that crappy halfway house."

"You do know that you are submitting yourself and your home to random searches by her parole officer for as long as she stays?"

"I'm very much aware of that. Emily is my friend, one of the few she still has, and I want to see her stepping back into her life on the right foot."

Hotch took the dig at his character without a word. "How is she doing?"

"Feeling a bit overwhelmed, but that is to be expected since she's only been out for less than a day."

"That is very true." The two men gazed at each other and when Hotch realized that was all he was going to get, he said with a curt nod, "Thanks, Dave. I appreciate it."

Dave knew Hotch was fishing for further details and he wasn't about to violate Emily's privacy. The difficulties she was displaying with adjusting to her new situation would remain between them. Hotch would have to get them another way. It was then he decided he couldn't hold his tongue and waited for the Unit Chief to be almost out the door.

"Aaron, if you really want to know how Emily is doing, I suggest you man up and go see her. I don't guarantee she'll see you since you never bothered to visit her, but I don't think she'd turn away a old friend."

He paused, not turning around to face Dave, just letting the comment sink in. Sucking in a breath, he responded, "I'll talk to you later," and departed.

The senior profiler didn't regret his words or the sting that accompanied them. They might have been on the harsh side, but he needed the proverbial kick in the ass. Hotch was the leader of the unit and this team and he had to set the example. If he made a concerted effort to visit Emily, the rest should hopefully follow suit.


	7. Chapter 7

Emily sat in the waiting room of the Probation and Parole office in Arlington, Virginia, figuratively twiddling her thumbs. Her appointment was for eleven o'clock and she arrived with plenty of time to spare even after stopping to pick up a pay-as-you go cell phone. She hated that buying the phone put her deeper in debt to Dave because she was using some of the money he told her to keep, though she had no intention to, but she needed a phone. Once she got a job they would need a way to contact her and she refused to use Dave's home phone as her personal answering service. The phone wasn't fancy like her old one, just the basic model, but it would do until she could afford an upgrade. She hadn't mentioned the desire to have a cell phone on their drive to the metro station because he would've rushed out on his lunch break to buy her the top of the line model with all the bells and whistles and crazy service contract. She had to put her foot down somewhere.

Forty minutes passed her appointment time, the inner door swung open and a short man with bushy eyebrows and moustache that made up for his receding hairline, and a belly that hung over his belt, stepped through.

Without even looking around, he barked, "You! Follow me!"

She had no trouble realizing that he was talking to her since she was the only person in the waiting room at that particular moment. Even the receptionist was off on her lunch break. Repressing a sigh, she got up and followed him through the door to an office at the end of the short hallway that reminded her of JJ's old office when she was the team's media liaison. Wherever the eyes looked there were piles of folders.

"Sit," he ordered, dropping into his seat that let out a squeak in protest and flipping open the file in the center of his cluttered desk. The nameplate read Bryce Holland. He snatched a pencil out of the holder and started chewing on one end.

 _Probably a smoker and can't smoke on the premises_ , she concluded as she sat in the lone chair with its cracked leather seat arranged before the desk. She leaned back looking relaxed while her insides were tied up in knots, having a sinking feeling this wasn't going to go well. He was showing all the signs of a jaded and burned out parole officer.

"Let's see who you are," he rumbled around the pencil. "Ah, yes. Emily Prentiss the FBI agent who went on a fatal bender."

Emily remained silent, having learned early on in her incarceration that it was of no use protesting her innocence to those in power who didn't give a damn.

"Found guilty of two counts of vehicular manslaughter and sentenced to ten years for each to be served concurrently. Should have been consecutively. I've never liked the concurrent crap. It makes my job harder. Served five and a half years before being paroled."

Holland looked up from the file long enough to smirk at her. "And I'll bet you were a model prisoner. They all are. No…wait. It seems someone was rather full of herself in the beginning, trying to throw her FBI weight around."

 _It wasn't like that at all_ , she fumed.

* * *

 _Emily and her cellmate stood outside their cell with their backs to the wall while the guards conducted one of their random shakedowns for contraband. Emily had been through enough of them during her six months here so far that she no longer batted an eye at the invasion of her privacy. When she became an unwilling guest of the Virginia penal system, she lost that right along with many others. As much as she hated it, she was wise enough not to refuse because that would result in disciplinary action and being sent directly to the Special Housing Unit, the last place she ever wanted to be. She just wanted to keep her head down, serve her time and hopefully get out early for good behavior._

" _Prentiss!" One of the guards called._

 _The two inmates exchanged puzzled looks for this was the first time either one of them was ordered to enter during a search. With a shrug Emily stepped into their shared cell. "Yes?" she asked in a bored voice._

 _The guard conducting the actual search gestured to the top bunk with its folded back mattress. "Care to explain this?"_

" _It's a bunk with a crappy mattress," Emily replied with an indifferent shrug._

 _The guard's eyes narrowed at her flippancy. "Take a closer look and try again."_

 _Emily stepped closer, looking to where the guard was pointing. Her eyes widened in shock and surprise. Lying on the cold metal of the bunk were three watches, an mp3 player, a wad of money and cigarettes._

" _Well?" the guard asked._

 _She was flabbergasted. Emily had never seen them before and how they got into her cell and under her mattress was a mystery. Her thoughts immediately went to her cellmate as the most likely culprit. She has the easiest access and the two detested each other so Emily had no trouble putting it past her. But there was simpler ways to get rid of a cellmate than planting stolen merchandise, like filing a complaint with the counselors. No, it had to be someone else who did it and her list of suspects just got a whole lot longer. Over half the inmates in her cellblock didn't like her because she was ex-law enforcement and probably a snitch. The cell doors were kept open during the day so it wouldn't be difficult to slip inside and stash the loot under her mattress._

" _Those aren't mine. I don't have a clue how they got there."_

" _Obviously. Inventory lists you as owning one watch that I can plainly see you wearing on your wrist."_

" _If you're implying that I stole them, you're dead wrong. And I wouldn't be dumb enough to hide them where they would be easily found."_

 _The guard's eyes widened. "Oh? Where would you hide them?"_

 _Emily didn't like her tone, but didn't stoop to her level, trying to be civil in a difficult situation. "Nowhere because I'm not stupid enough to steal anything in the first place. I want to get out of here and the only way to do that is to stay out of trouble. I'm not going to jeopardize my chance of early parole."_

" _That's what you all say."_

" _It's the truth."_

" _You're no longer a posh FBI agent," the guard said with derision. "But a convicted felon so your words don't hold much water. I will be filing an incident report and you will be notified of the charges against you."_

" _You got to be kidding me," Emily exclaimed in disbelief._

" _Didn't you read your inmate handbook, Prentiss? This is a level two violation. You can argue your case to the DHU at your disciplinary hearing."_

" _Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful," she muttered in disgust under her breath as the guards wrapped up the search and left her to remake her bunk according to regulations._

* * *

 _Emily's disciplinary hearing was a repeat of her trial. All she could do was to sit there silently fuming as she listened to multiple witnesses claiming that she threatened bodily harm if they didn't pay her. They were lying through their teeth because she knew for a fact that she has never laid eyes on them until today. It all stank of a set up. Whoever had put them up to it must hold considerable sway over them to get them to perjure themselves. But just like her trial, Emily had no way to prove it. It was their word against hers and she didn't have any evidence to show how the stolen items ended up under her mattress. It really irked her that she wasn't allowed to question the witnesses; only her staff representative could do so. If she had been allowed to, she would have wormed the truth out of them in no time flat. All Emily could do was to make statements in her own defense even though she knew she was royally screwed._

 _In the end it was all for naught. The DHU found her guilty of extortion and sentenced her to ninety days in disciplinary segregation effective immediately. As she was being cuffed, he gravely informed her he could have given her the maximum of six months, but since it was her first offense, he cut the time in half and hoped she learned her lesson. It was of little comfort to Emily as she was led away. She was still going to be spending the next three months with only herself for company. All of her privileges were revoked and when she got out, she could look forward to eighty hours of extra duty in two hour increments tacked on to the end of her workday._

 _She was taken directly to the Special Housing Unit where she exchanged her khaki scrubs for orange ones after a full body search. Then she was locked in a cell that was smaller than her old one. Instead of bars on the door, this one was solid steel with a narrow rectangular window for observation and a slot to pass the food tray through. All personal items were confiscated and she was only allowed to have blankets, a mattress, a pillow, toothbrush and toothpaste and the books they provided to keep her from going stark raving mad._

 _The three months in solitary confinement was hell for Emily. It meant she lived in her cell 23-24 hours a day. Two days a week was spent entirely in isolation and for the remaining five she was allotted one hour for exercise. Emily quickly lost track of time and only knew that it was a different day by paying attention to the clothing of the medical staff that were required to check on her daily to make sure she wasn't suicidal._

 _Those check ins and the hour outside in an area the size of a dog run topped with razor wire weren't the only things that kept her sane. It was the one privilege they let her keep: visitation day. When Dave arrived for his visit, he wasn't informed of the situation so he was surprised when he was shown to a private room and more so when she was escorted in wearing orange scrubs and shackled hand and foot._

" _Emily, what happened?" he asked worriedly after the guard secured her to the chair and left._

 _All Emily could do was shrug since her hands were cuffed to her waist. "I'm doing ninety days in solitary."_

" _For what?"_

" _Extortion," she said with a snort of disgust and filled him in on how it all went down. When she was done, Dave asked if she had any idea who might be behind it. She shrugged again. "I have my suspicions that it was the two that attacked me in the showers or a couple of their closest buddies who were ticked that they got solitary for it. Unfortunately I have no way to prove it."_

" _What are you going to do?"_

" _I have no clue as of yet, but I have plenty of time to think about it."_

 _Both fell silent. At this particular moment Dave never felt so angry and helpless at the same time. Wasn't it bad enough that she was locked up in this hellhole? Now she was being assaulted and framed, thrown into solitary…he was worried about what it would do to her. The social isolation and the barrier between her and the rest of the population wasn't right. It would protect her from the other women who, clearly, had a problem with her, but it was going to mess with her head. And that, he was sure, was probably the worst part. She didn't deserve that, especially when she was already so secluded and separate from the only life she knew and only people she ever felt were her true family. Then that just got him angry. He was angry at most of the team for not visiting, at the guards for not watching over the inmates better, at her for getting into this mess…and, mostly, he was angry at himself for not being able to help her before it ever came to this. He loved her like a daughter, and there wasn't much he could do for her in here._

 _Well there was something he could do to help her through this difficult and stressful period. He would make sure to visit every week to buy her some extra time away from her cell. And if a case came up that interfered with his visits, he would simply not go. If Hotch didn't like it, he would just have to deal with it. Dave had enough seniority and power to decline going on the case. The team could function without him every now and then. Emily's mental wellness was more important to him right now._

* * *

 _As Emily told Dave at the time, she didn't know what she was going to do, but she did when she rejoined the general population after her three-month stint in solitary. She was going to do nothing. She was more than certain who the culprits of the frame up were and knew they were hoping she would retaliate and get herself into further trouble. But she wasn't going to stoop to their schoolyard antics. She was going to be the bigger person and walk away. Let them think they took her down a notch or two because she really didn't care. Her main concern was to avoid getting any more disciplinary action reports filed against her that could jeopardize her getting parole on the first try. But woe to any of them who tried to get physical with her because she would defend herself with a vengeance._

 _Even though ninety days in disciplinary segregation was a small amount of time compared to other sentence lengths handed out for rules violation, it still had a dramatic affect on Emily. She was now more guarded and suspicious of everyone, including the guards and the staff. Her hyper awareness was also ratcheted up a notch or two. Not only was she constantly looking over her shoulder, she was sitting at certain tables in the common area where she had a clear line of sight of her cell so she would be able to see anyone entering it. And when she couldn't be there because of work, meals and being out in the exercise yard, Emily would immediately search her areas of the shared cell for any contraband. She got caught once with her defenses down she wasn't going to let it happen again…ever._

* * *

"Ninety days spent in solitary and after that lesson it seems you managed to keep your nose clean. You had a few fights over the years, but was never the instigator."

"I was defending myself. You know what goes down on the inside."

"You once broke an inmate's nose."

"Because she had just broken my cheek bone." Emily gritted her teeth in an attempt to control her temper. He was pissing her off and the last thing she wanted to do was to get off on the wrong foot with her parole officer even if he was acting like an ass.

Holland kept coming at her like he was attempting to provoke her and give him an excuse to revoke her parole. She wasn't about to fall into his trap. She was never going back there.

"What did you learn from your stint in solitary?"

"Not to get caught," slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Silence then descended on the cramp and untidy office, the two glaring at each other over the cluttered desk. Eventually he leaned forward, pencil clamped between his teeth like a cigar.

"You might have been a hotshot FBI agent once, but now you're just an ex-con like all your fellow malcontents. If you're thinking parole is going to be a walk in the park, you're sorely mistaken. I own your ass for the next four and a half years and you will do everything I say." He pulled a sheet of paper out of the file and tossed it at her. "These are the terms of your parole. Memorize them. You are to report to me physically on a weekly basis, none of this phone in crap. You will submit to random testing for drugs and alcohol, searches of your person and place of residence. You are barred from entering any drinking establishment and purchasing any type of alcohol. Your permits to possess firearms have been revoked and your driver's license has been suspended indefinitely. If you play nicely by the rules, I might allow you to drive back and forth to work. You're not allowed to venture beyond fifty miles from your place of residence without my permission."

Holland produced two more sheets of paper. "You are to obtain and maintain gainful employment, minimum of thirty hours a week. When you report to me, you will present your current pay stub and this form." He jabbed the pencil at the first one. "That your employer will sign weekly verifying that you worked your scheduled hours. I will be showing up unannounced at your place of work to make sure you're not trying to pull the wool over my eyes."

He gestured at the second form. "Just like in the slammer, you will continue to attend weekly AA meeting. I have included a list of regular meetings where the moderator is willing to sign off on your attendance. Do you understand your terms of parole?"

Yeah, Emily understood the conditions of her parole quite clearly. She was screwed. She was leaving the physical prison just to be lobbed into another disguised as freedom. She might be leaving the bars behind, but she was still metaphorically shackled. She was limited, unable to do everything a normal citizen could. Travel was out of the question because she had to check in with her parole officer, not that she even had the money to if she wanted. Driving was off limits. Where she could go and what she was doing would always be monitored, if not by the parole officer, then someone in her life waiting for her to fail. Her life was different and she was, by no means, a free woman. Independence as she knew it was gone.

"I do," she replied.

"Good. I expect you to follow all the rules to the letter. If you deviate from any of them in the smallest way, I'll have your ass back in prison so fast it'll take a week for your head to stop spinning."

 _Lovely,_ she thought drolly. _Instead of getting a parole officer who wants to help me succeed in reentering the real world, I get the parole officer from hell who prefers me back in prison so he doesn't have to deal with me._

"I will also make sure any future chances at parole will be denied and you'll finish serving the rest of your sentence. Got it?"

"Crystal clear."

Holland slammed the file shut. "I'll see you bright and early a week from today at ten sharp. Don't be late by even one minute or you're back inside. You're dismissed."

Biting back an angry retort, Emily silently rose to her feet and head for the door. Just as her hand brushed the doorknob, he barked out her last name and she had a flashback to the guards and staff doing that to her. It showed no respect. She didn't like it then and she didn't like it now.

Emily slowly turned and said, "What now?"

"Prentiss, I can tell you don't like me. I don't like you either, but we'll only have to suffer each others presence for a short time because I can guarantee that within six months you will fall off the wagon and be back in prison where you belong."

* * *

Upon returning home from work Dave found Emily in her bedroom, sitting on the couch, staring moodily into the fire. Mudgie was curled up next to her, his head in her lap. At first Dave was worried about all the black hair on the white couch, but then he noticed she had draped a blanket over it before inviting him up. Dave sat down on the other side of the dog. Mudgie looked at him, thumped his tail twice in greeting and then dropped his grayed head back in Emily's lap.

"How did it go with your parole officer?"

Emily continued to stare into the fire, fingers rubbing Mudgie's ears. "He predicted that I will fall off the wagon and be back behind bars within six months."

"Clearly he doesn't know you at all."

"What about you? You believe I'm an alcoholic."

"What I believe is that five years inside can change a person, but it doesn't take away who they are at heart. And you, Emily, are a strong woman, probably stronger now for going though all you have. I'm not going to label you an alcoholic. All I know is that you're a person who learns from your mistakes and you take what life throws at you and grow from it."

Emily gave him a small nod. "For five years I've been praying for this day to come, praying for the day my life is not controlled by others, that I can finally make my own decisions. Then that day does finally come and guess what? I have stepped from one prison into another. Only this one's bars and razor wire fencing are invisible. My life is still not my own, it's his. He has control of everything I can and cannot do."

"It'll get better," he started and, seeing her ready to retort, put up a hand to stop her. "I know that sounds cliché and not what you want to hear. It may not feel like it now, but you are in control of what happens. Yes, there are limitations right now, but you still have the choice to make the most of what you have while following the rules of parole."

Emily sighed. "I appreciate your glass half full rendition of my life, but I don't have the same rose colored glasses. I have to live this. I have to go every day worrying about every little thing that could potentially send me back to prison. I spend so much time thinking, I don't have a whole lot of time to do anything else."

"Take it one day at a time. It—"

"Will get better. Right, got that the first time, Sensei. I just don't see how."

"Follow the rules, but don't be afraid to be free. Because you are."

"Yeah... I'll try," she said.

"Good. This is your life Emily. I'm sure it's not how you imagined. It's not what I would've wanted for you either, but you can make the most of it. Do what you want. Be happy and free, make your own choices, but, if the bottle starts calling, come to me."

That wasn't going to happen, not in a million years, but she was still touched by his concern for her welfare, especially her nonexistent drinking problem. "I'll do my best."

"That's all I'm asking, grasshopper." He slapped his knees and stood up. "Now come downstairs with me. I have a surprise for you."

"I don't know, Dave," she tried to beg off. "I'm really not in the mood for any surprises."

"Trust me, Emily. You'll like this one," he said, pulling her reluctantly to her feet. Mudgie whined in protest at the abrupt ending of his petting session.

"You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?" she huffed in defeat.

"No, I'm not. Now get your butt into gear. We don't have all day."

"I'm going, I'm going," she said, following him down the stairs and wondering what he possibly got her. Maybe it was one of those audio ports he mentioned during breakfast. Her surprise was waiting for her in the middle of the living room.

"Emily!" Penelope squealed in delight, rushing over to engulf her friend in a bone-crushing hug. "I've been waiting five years to do this without a guard breaking it up."


	8. Chapter 8

"Emily!" Penelope squealed in delight, rushing over to engulf her friend in a bone-crushing hug. "I've been waiting five years to do this without a guard breaking it up."

Once Emily got over her initial shock, she returned the hug twofold. "Hey, Penelope."

"It's so good to see you."

"Same here."

Penelope broke the embrace, but didn't let go of Emily, holding her at arms length and critically examined her from head to toe. "You girl are too skinny," she tsked.

"Prison food will do that to you," Emily quipped. "It's bad enough to kill any healthy appetite."

"Well, we need to get some meat on your bones and I know just how to do it. We're going out for dinner." Penelope glanced at Dave standing politely off to one side. "Just the two of us. It will be our first official girls night out."

"Dinner?" Emily echoed, feeling a little overwhelmed. She was still off balance from her parole meeting and now her first real visitor since getting out wanted to drag her off to dinner like the past five and half years never happened.

"Yuppers. I'm thinking French or that bar on G street." She was oblivious to her friend's distress. "I have a taste for something greasy. I don't think you want Italian because Dave is going to be stuffing you full of it."

Emily looked to Dave for some support, but he thought it wasn't good for her to hide out in her room. She had to get back into the routine of living her life. "I think it's a great idea," he chimed in.

She shot both a dirty look. They were double teaming her and she didn't like it. Emily also knew when she was licked and gave up the fight, even though there really wasn't one. "Both sound good, but my parole bars me from entering any type of drinking establishment." Already the terms of her parole was rearing its ugly head and interfering with her life.

"French it is and I know just the place. The menus are in French so you can knock the rust off your translating skills. Now hop to it, Em, and grab your purse. I'm hungry and if I don't eat soon, I'm going to faint."

"Can't have that happening," Emily agreed, a smile coming to her lips. No matter how down she felt, the bubbly blonde could always manage to make her smile. Since she didn't have enough stuff to warrant a purse, she just shoved her cell phone, money and metro card into the pocket of her jeans.

Dave escorted them to the door. "Have fun you two." To Emily, he softly said, "This is a good thing, Kiddo. Relax and enjoy yourself."

* * *

A half hour later they were ensconced in a secluded booth, Emily automatically choosing the side where she had her back to the wall. After the waiter had taken their drinks order, Emily translated the menu for Penelope as promised. Once they placed their orders for roasted veggie ratatouille and risotto aux champignon, they sat back and took a sip of their drinks.

It was then that Penelope realized her mistake and hastily put down her glass of white wine. "Oh gosh, Emily. I'm so so sorry."

Emily frowned in puzzlement over her glass of Coke. "What are you sorry for?"

"I shouldn't have ordered the wine when you're not allowed to have any."

"It's fine, Pen," she said with a dismissive wave of a hand. "You having some wine doesn't bother me one bit."

And it didn't. Unlike Dave and the rest of the team who believed she was a closet alcoholic, Penelope has been in her corner from the day she was arrested. She didn't believe for one minute that Emily had been drinking and driving that night. From all their girls nights out over the years she knew and witnessed that when her friend was driving, she ordered one drink and nursed it all night long. She concurred with Emily that the whole situation stank of a setup orchestrated by someone with a grudge.

"You sure? I don't want to be seen as insensitive."

"Positive. You drinking in front of me isn't going to cause me to raid the nearest liquor cabinet."

"That's a relief," Penelope sighed happily.

Conversation came to a stop while the waiter delivered their appetizers. Emily had to remind herself that she wasn't in prison anymore so she didn't have to wrap one arm protectively around her plate and to eat slowly since there was no time limit. Those reminders would have come from Dave if he had come to dinner with them. The food was delicious, but then any meal was a hundred times better that what the prison had served her for five years.

"You liking?" Penelope asked between courses.

"Very much so. Thanks for inviting me."

"My pleasure and before I forget, I have what you requested." She rummaged though her oversized purse, eventually pulling out a thumb drive and setting it in front of Emily.

Emily picked it up and examined it like it could reveal its secrets simply by gazing at it. She had almost forgotten about asking for it all those years ago.

* * *

 _Penelope shifted nervously on metal seat as she looked around the visiting room. All she saw around her were felons…and their families and friends she mentally added at the last second. Still it made her extremely uncomfortable. Actually the whole process of visiting someone in prison made her uncomfortable. Her car had been searched when she had driven onto the grounds and then when she had entered the building she had been patted down for contraband. It was embarrassing and Penelope knew she had blushed a bright red when the first hand touched her. After that there was more paperwork to fill out beyond the initial visitors application. All of this trouble just to spend a couple of hours visiting a loved one. At times it didn't seem worth it, but Emily was her friend, her family. She would do anything for her, including a full body search to give Emily a few hours of happiness._

 _Her face split into a wide smile when the guard led Emily into the room. Penelope let out a squeal of delight and engulfed her friend in a bone-crushing hug. "Emily!"_

" _Hey, Pen," she greeted, returning the hug._

 _The guard inserted herself between them after a minute. "No touching of the prisoner is allowed, Ma'am," she cautioned._

 _Penelope wanted to shout at her that Emily had a name and it definitely wasn't a prisoner, but all she ended up doing was to stammer, "I'm sorry."_

 _Emily smiled apologetically. "You're only allowed to give a quick hug at the beginning and the end."_

" _Oh," Penelope said, blushing._

 _Emily gestured at their assigned table and they sat down across from each other. Each stared at each other, looking for changes in them and wondering who was going to be the first to speak. Penelope eyes took in the khaki prison scrubs Emily was wearing. The color was a bit drab for her taste, but it was better than wide stripes or bright orange. It was a shame she couldn't wear her own clothes. She would be much more comfortable in them and would make the time go quicker. Once she got past the prison scrubs, she began to see the physical changes in Emily. She had lost weight and there were dark circles under her eyes that no amount of makeup could hide. Not that Emily was wearing any. Why bother with it when you have nowhere to go? And without any makeup she could still see the yellow and greens that were leftover from the black eye Dave had said she had gotten weeks ago. From the other side of the table Emily could see new worry lines around the technical analyst's mouth and eyes and hoped she wasn't the cause of them._

 _Emily chose to break the awkward silence by asking how Penelope was. The blonde rebuked her gently and responded, "Me? I should be asking you that. How is it? Is it terrible? TV always makes prison look terrible."_

" _It's not so bad," Emily lied._

 _Penelope didn't need to have any profiling skills to know she was lying, but she also knew that Emily was trying to put on a strong front for her. So she wasn't going to make her friend feel worse when she was already down. The whole situation was bad enough._

" _Is there anything I can do?" Penelope asked, wanting to badly reach out and hold her friend's hand._

 _Emily smiled, watching her friend's fingers twitch as she restrained herself from reaching out to her. "Nothing really. You just being here is enough. So how are you?"_

" _I'm okay. Better than you," she made a point to add. "Things are…different. It's been hard without you around."_

" _I'm sorry, Pen," Emily was quick to apologize._

" _Don't you dare apologize for something you didn't do. I know you didn't hit those poor people."_

 _Emily let out a humorless snort. "You're the only one." She worried a thumbnail. "How is everyone else? I've only seen Dave since I been loc…here." She couldn't force herself to say locked up._

 _Penelope paused, really trying to think of the right things to say. The rest of the team was ignorant fools in her mind; all unable to see past the so-called evidence and look at the person they had always known. "Derek's good, but he's getting on my last nerve."_

" _Pen…" Emily stopped her. Derek had taken the news as a sign of betrayal and hadn't spoken to her since the day of her arrest. "Don't let me get between you and Derek."_

" _You're not," she answered quickly. "We have…some issues to work out, but don't you worry your pretty little head about it. Everyone is doing okay. I think we're not sure how to feel right now, so there's a lot of not feeling going on. We miss you. I know that much."_

" _I miss all of you too," Emily said with a sigh and a sad smile._

 _They fell into another uncomfortable silence. Before all this they could easily talk about anything they thought of. But now…it seemed like they had nothing in common._

" _Pen…" Emily started and then trailed off. She took a deep breath and tried again. "I thought of something you could do for me."_

" _Name it."_

" _I know this is a lot to ask and you can say no," Emily began. "But I need help looking into my case. I can't do anything in here."_

" _Oh, Sug. I have looked into it. I looked for anything that would have helped to keep you out of here."_

" _I know you tried, but this is different. I don't want you to look just at my case."_

" _I don't get it," Penelope said with a frown._

 _Emily leaned in and lowered her voice so that they wouldn't be overheard especially by one of the guards circulating around the room. "I need you to look at every case where I put someone in prison. I was set up so naturally it has to be someone out for revenge."_

" _Oh! I see. You want the lowdown on just them?"_

" _Yes. Also on their families and associates. Basically anyone who would have a motive to strike back at me."_

" _I will do my best," Penelope promised and if there were anything to find she would find it. "I don't know how fast I can get it done."_

" _That's okay. I'm not going anywhere."_

 _Both sobered at that. Emily wasn't going anywhere for at least five years or even worse…for ten. "No problem. As soon I get some, I'll bring it to you."_

 _Emily shook her head. "It's against the rules for you to bring me anything at our visits. It will be confiscated. And don't try to send it by mail. They open everything and if they deem it inappropriate, I could lose some of my privileges."_

 _Confused, Penelope looked at Emily with narrowed eyes and asked, "Then what do you want me to do with it?"_

" _I guess…just hold on to it. Keep it safe for me. I'll be out of here eventually."_

" _But how does that help you now?"_

" _It doesn't."_

 _That made Penelope super sad. The thought of helping Emily made her happy. She hoped, for just a moment that they would be able to work together and find the evidence to get her out. Now, the reality was if Penelope found something, she might not be able to put the pieces together to make it worth anything, and she wouldn't be working with Emily at all, at least not for the next few years._

" _Don't pout," Emily said. "Please."_

" _I'll try, but…but I hate seeing you in here," she confessed._

" _And I hate being in here, but there is nothing we can do to change it now."_

" _I know, but you're nothing like them." Penelope looked around at the other inmates in the room. "You're innocent."_

 _Emily sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Not according to a jury of my peers. In here I'm just like them. I'm a convicted felon doing ten years for running over two people while drunk off my ass."_

" _I hate this," she repeated._

" _I know." This conversation was getting both of them depressed. "Just talk to me, Pen."_

" _About what?"_

" _About anything," Emily said with a wistful smile. "Just make me laugh."_

 _Penelope grinned. "I can do that." And she did._

* * *

 _Penelope vowed to visit as often as she could and she was able to keep it...for a while. Over the next couple of months her visits became more sporadic until they stopped completely. Emily was disappointed, but she expected it to happen. She knew Penelope found the whole experience unsettling though she tried to hide it. She had to admit who would? Then there was the whole situation with Derek. Poor Penelope was stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one side, she didn't want to turn her back on Emily and wanted her to know she was there for her. On the other, Derek wanted her to sever all ties and forget Emily. He had every right to his feelings, and, as much as she disagreed with them, Penelope didn't want to upset him. Though it hurt, Emily preferred that the analyst not ruin her close friendship with Derek over her and stay away._

 _About a month after Penelope had stopped visiting. Emily was sitting alone at one of the tables in the common area of her cellblock writing in a wireless notebook. Even though she had won the respect of her fellow inmates through fighting, they still tended to give her a wide berth and that suited her just fine. But it didn't stop the taunts and name calling from being tossed her way on occasion. It was of no use getting upset about something that was going to continue for the next ten years so she ignored it. She would always be the disgraced FBI agent, commonly referred to as Fed-ex._

 _Though it looked like she was engrossed in her writing, Emily was fully aware of everything going on around her. It was too dangerous not to. From the way the inmates were gathering, Emily knew it was almost four thirty and that meant mail call, the highlight of their day. Emily didn't pay much attention to it since she never received any mail so she listened with half an ear as the guard called out names and the inmates answering with a 'here'. Halfway through it she was caught off guard when she heard her name called out._

" _Prentiss."_

 _Emily's head snapped up and she frowned in confusion, prompting snickers from many of the inmates and a jeer from one who liked to bully anyone she could._

" _Hey, Fed-ex, there ain't no door to door delivery in here. You gotta get off your royal ass and go get it."_

" _Prentiss," the guard called again, looking around._

" _Here," she said, rising to her feet and picking up her notebook._

 _As she walked, she ignored the taunts coming from the inmate known as Big Shirley. She was your typical bully, acting like a bitch as a front to hide her inner coward. She would put on a show, but if anyone called her bluff, she would slink off with her tail between her legs. Emily had run afoul of her a few days after she had become an unwilling guest of the prison system. Big Shirley thought she would be an easy mark and ridiculed her at every opportunity. Emily turned a deaf ear to her because they were just empty words. Then one day she upped her game and shoved Emily hard to get her attention. Her response was been immediate. Even though Big Shirley outweighed her by a hundred pounds, Emily shoved her back and then got in her face, telling her in no uncertain terms that she was never to touch her again. One look at the anger burning in Emily's dark brown eyes told Big Shirley she had made a big mistake and she beat a hasty retreat. From there on she did her taunting from afar._

 _Emily was surprised when she was handed a package instead of a letter. It felt heavy and when she looked at the label, she saw it was from Amazon. A smile flitted across her face, having a good idea what was in it and who had sent it. Not wanting to open it in front of everyone, she headed to her cell on the second level for, hopefully, some privacy. A quick glance over the railing at the common area below told her that her cellmate was down there so she would have the cell all to herself for a little while._

 _She tossed the notebook and package on the top bunk and then climbed up to join them. There Emily sat cross legged, gazing at the unexpected surprise for several minutes before opening it. It wasn't hard to do since the package had been opened and searched for contraband. Nestled inside were two trades and one paperback book. Hardbacks weren't allowed because things can be hidden in the book's binding. All three books were works of fiction, which was fine with her. Emily reverently ran her hand over the covers. These were hers. She would be able to read them over and over at her leisure and never have to worry about trying to finish before it had to be returned to the library. It felt good to own something that the prison didn't supply._

" _Thank you, Penelope Garcia," Emily said gratefully to the empty air, hugging one of the books to her chest._

 _This was Penelope's way of telling her that she was still thinking of her, even if she could no longer be there physically. It warmed Emily's heart to know her friend in absentia was there for her and she felt a little less alone than she had an hour ago. Emily made a mental note to ask Dave to pass on her thanks to the bubbly analyst._

 _But Penelope wasn't done yet. She had a few more tricks up her colorful sleeve. About a week after the books had arrived, Emily was again surprised to hear her name at mail call. This time it was a Suduko puzzle book and three days later an issue of Smithsonian magazine showed up. Both were followed two weeks later by her first copy of the New York Times. The blonde analyst had gotten her subscriptions to all three to give Emily a tangible connection to the outside world. Also the newspaper got her involved every day at mail call since it helped her to focus on events occurring outside the prison, not on what was happening within its walls._

 _There was an additional benefit of receiving the subscriptions for Emily. They were a currency of sorts, more of a currency of favors. One day while she was reading her latest issue of the Times, an inmate sidled up and asked if it was okay if she could read it after Emily had finished with it. At first Emily had bristled at the intrusion, but quickly realized this was an opportunity to build a few alliances. There were no friendships in prison, just tolerance of each other. By sharing her newspaper they would start to see her as a fellow prisoner and not as the ex-agent who might squeal on them. It would lessen some of the animosity towards her and make the next ten years more bearable. Her copies, once she was done with them, were passed from inmate to inmate until they were in tatters by the time they hit the recycle bin._

 _Emily did the same thing with the Smithsonian magazines since she could only keep the issues in her locker until they were three months old and then they had to be disposed of. Might as well let others enjoy them before they got too old, she thought. Those issues she wanted to keep permanently, she shipped out with her books. Rules stated she was allowed to keep up to twelve books in her cell at any given time. So every three months she packed up the books and magazines and put in a request to have them picked up by Dave when he visited. She had to do it because Penelope sent her a box of new books every month. She used to send three books, but upped it to four when Emily asked Dave to ask her if she could send some mysteries. Just because she was in prison didn't mean she stopped reading mysteries. Penelope did so and made sure she had a variety from the different genres she liked each month. Emily also used some of the money Dave deposited monthly in her account to buy a book light from the commissary so she could read at night and not disturb her cellmate. Emily was extremely grateful for Penelope's kindness and continuing friendship, for everything she sent allowed Emily to escape for a few hours every day the reality of her situation._

* * *

"Thanks, Pen. I hope you didn't get into any trouble over this."

"Not at all. I worked on it during my free time. I hope whoever framed you is on the drive. Everyone looked on the up and up, but I don't have your profiling skills."

Emily let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "Those profiling skills are very rusty and I hope you're right. Without access to the Internet I could only write down those names I could remember. I'm sure your list is more comprehensive than mine."

"I'm glad I could help. I only wish I had found something to prove your innocence and you wouldn't have spent five years in that horrible place."

"It is what it is. There's nothing we can do to change the past and get those years back for me."

Their dinners arrived and they fell silent as they attacked their meals with gusto. As they ate, Penelope kept glancing at Emily like she wanted to say something else. Finally she put her fork down and fiddled with the napkin in her lap. She opened and closed her mouth several times before blurting out, "Em, I'm sorry I wimped out on you and stopped visiting."

Emily paused in mid-bite before slowly lowering her fork. "Pen, there's nothing for you to apologize for. I completely understand and, truthfully, I expected it. I know how uncomfortable you were with the whole process of visiting and how difficult it was for you to see me that way. I don't blame you one bit. It was just as difficult for me knowing that when the visit was over, you would be returning to your life and I to my cell."

"I feel like I abandoned you."

"You didn't…far from it. You've done more for me than you are aware of. Dave's visits and your monthly gift of books and the subscriptions are the only things that helped me keep my sanity. I had something to look forward to, instead of brooding on the injustice of it all and possibly sinking into a profound depression." Emily reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I should be the one thanking you."

Penelope squeezed back. "It's what family does for family especially when one finds herself in a bad situation."

"And it's greatly appreciated. I don't know how I would have survived it if I didn't have you two in my corner."

"You survived it because you are a Prentiss. You're strong and stubborn."

Both shared a chuckle. Penelope had her pegged. She could be extremely stubborn at times, but it served her well during her unfortunate incarceration.

"And thanks for the new wardrobe. I wasn't expecting that."

Penelope blushed. "No problem. I had fun. I didn't want you walking out of that place with only the clothes on your back."

"Your taste is impeccable. You knew what I would like," Emily praised.

"Of course I do. If I had let Rossi do it, everything he bought would have been frumpy looking." She let out a dramatic sigh. "If he had only given me his credit card, I would've gotten you a lot more stuff. For some reason he thought I would buy out the entire store." She sounded genuinely puzzled.

"Gee, I wonder where he got that silly idea," Emily smirked with a small roll of the eyes. "So tell me what's going on in your life. I've heard bits and pieces, but I want to hear everything from the horse's mouth."

And that what they did; first at the restaurant and then in her room back at Dave's. Now Emily was lying in her bed gazing at the ceiling, music from her mp3 playing softly from its new home in the audio port Dave had picked up on his way home from work. She forced herself to use the bed and not the couch. If she wanted to adjust to living in the outside world, she had to get used to sleeping in a nice regular bed. Her first full day of freedom had gotten off to a rough start with that horrible meeting with her parole officer. The feeling that her life wasn't her own was still with her though its impact was lessened by her wonderful night out with Penelope. It felt so good renewing an old and dear friendship.

Emily turned her attention to the thumb drive she was twirling between her fingers. She longed to seeing the files Penelope had compiled for her, to jump right in and start digging for the most likely suspects and comparing them to what she had come up with, but it would have to wait. Right now she has to focus on finding a job and getting her ass of a parole officer off her back. Once that was done, she was going to devote all her free time tracking down the person who sent her to prison. She waited patiently for five and a half years for this to happen so what were a few more days?


	9. Chapter 9

Emily was beyond frustrated. For two solid weeks she looked for employment and failed to get a single interview. She had thought, incorrectly it seems, that her education and past employment history would land her a job. It would have easily happened if it weren't for that one box on the application that she was required by law to check. The one that asked if she has ever been convicted of a felony or misdemeanor and made her list what it was and how much time she served for it. Every future employer took one look at it and slammed the door in her face, acting like she was a serial killer who was going to murder the lot of them as soon as she was hired. It just wasn't fair.

It didn't help that her parole officer was all over her back about her seemingly lack of progress, threatening to send her back to prison if she didn't stop being lazy and get a job. He did provide a list of companies that did hire ex-cons, but the majority of them were fast food. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life slaving away in a dead end job and living at Dave's because she couldn't afford to live on her own. She wasn't that desperate or willing to stoop that low…yet.

Of course, when she got home after an unsuccessful day of job hunting, Emily took her frustrations out on Dave. She didn't mean too, but he was there so it made him a convenient target and when he was off on a case…working…Mudgie bore the brunt of it. Dog and master were alike in the way they handled it. They would listen patiently and quietly while she ranted about the injustice of it all and when she was spent, they offered support and encouragement. Dave with words and a comforting hand on the shoulder and Mudgie with wet doggie kisses to her nose or hand.

One night while Emily brooded over her dinner, pushing the food around the plate without taking a bite, Dave decided he had to do something. He had vowed not to interfere and try to make things easier for her. For Emily to reintegrate into her life, she had to do everything on her own, even if she has to fail several times before succeeding. But he was surprised that after two weeks she hadn't found a job and it wasn't from a lack of trying. Every day Emily was out pounding the pavement without any success. He really thought with her background she would have no problem getting one even with her record.

Dave hated seeing her so down and frustrated. When she was like this in prison, he had felt helpless because he couldn't do anything to change her situation, but now he could. After Emily called it an early night and went to bed, though he doubted she was sleeping, he retreated to his den to make a call. An old friend of his ran a modest law firm and often hired ex-cons because he believed everyone deserved a second chance. If he didn't have an opening available, he probably would know someone who was. He purposely kept it vague, more along the lines of a reference, because he didn't want Emily to be hired based on his friendship, but on her own merits. In his mind Dave was simply getting her through the door, the rest was up to her.

* * *

As Dave and Emily were sitting around the living room, Emily furiously looked through job ads on her laptop while Mudgie laid between them on the floor waiting for someone to notice him and give him a good ear rubbing. Dave had been waiting for the opportunity to subtly bring up the job he set up for her and now seemed as good a time as any. Though, he really had to do it right. No way would she even consider it if she knew he set it up.

Emily let out a frustrated growl. She wasn't finding anything. Even online, the applications specifically asked about criminal records and almost immediately gave her a 'no thank you' response through email. They weren't brave enough to call or meet with her. No one wanted to give her a chance, even when she was more than qualified for every position she applied for.

"Why don't you take a break from looking?" Dave suggested. "I can get us some of that tiramisu that I picked up at the bakery."

"I'm not hungry and I can't. I need to find a job now or I'm going to end up back in cell block B." She looked to him. "And there's no way I'm going back to prison."

"That's not going to happen, Emily," he said, but she wasn't reassured.

"You can't know that, Dave. My parole officer is bound and determined to send me back." It wouldn't be the first time she was sent to the big house for not doing something.

He leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. "What if I told you that I heard something through the grapevine that might interest you?"

"I'd say 'Oh yeah? And what's that?'"

"A job opportunity."

Emily looked at him dubiously. She knew he was aware of her struggles and the timing of his supposed knowledge of a job was too much of a coincidence, but she had to hear him out. She was getting desperate.

"Don't give me that look," he lightly scolded. "Just listen."

"I'm all ears," she responded. She had to hear it, but if it sounded too good to be true, she would know he set it up and that would make her angry.

"I needed some papers faxed from a law firm I've used before and had to get their number off the website. While there, I happened to stumble on a job opening."

Still skeptical, she asked, "What kind of job is it?"

"Looked like they had a few openings. And I have it on good authority that they don't discriminate because of a criminal record."

"Dave…this sounds…very…coincidental."

He held up his hands. "It's all on the up and up, Emily. Look it up on their website. Gunnarsson and Lund, Associates. See for yourself."

Emily stared at him for a moment and then sighed. What did she have to lose so she might as well as humor him. He was just trying to help. She pulled up the website and it was exactly as he said. There were several openings; two she was way over qualified for and one she didn't have the right degree for.

"You going to put in an application?"

She sighed again. "Yeah. I guess so. I don't have anything to lose and at this point I'm getting desperate."

"Maybe your luck will change."

"I seriously doubt it. My luck of late runs from bad to worse."

"Don't sell yourself short, Emily."

Emily snorted with skepticism and filled out the application, including checking the dreaded box that continued to deny her gainful employment. The arrow hovered over the send button for several minutes of indecision before she let out a long slow breath and clicking the mouse, sending the application on its merry way. Having grown used to the constant rejections, Emily was surprised to receive an email a day later inviting her to come in for an interview.

* * *

In the reception area of Gunnarsson and Lund, Emily tried her best not to fidget or pick at her nails. Almost six years in prison locked behind bars cured her of the bad habit and she didn't want to start it back up. She hasn't felt this nervous about a job since the day she walked into Hotch's office and he dismissed her as a clerical error instead of a highly qualified candidate for the open position.

Before leaving Dave's house, Emily made sure she had everything right. She put on her best power suit, makeup carefully applied, hair freshly washed and styled and several copies of her current resume in her leather portfolio. Her constant rechecking of everything had Dave joking that she was going to wear herself out before she even got there. Emily shot him a dirty look and made him drive her there because she didn't think she could handle the subway ride.

A surreptitious glance at her watch, she didn't want the receptionist to think she was over eager or anxious and report back to her boss, told her she had another five minutes to kill before her interview was slated to start. Since they weren't in a hurry to get there, Dave had gotten all the green lights and dropped her off in front of the law office with plenty of time left to spare. Projecting a level of calmness she did not feel, Emily smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt, let out a slow relaxing breath and tried to think of anything besides her impending interview. He mind immediately took her back to the last job she had.

* * *

 _Emily stood in front of the white line she wasn't allowed to cross until she was granted permission by Unit Counselor Laura Wilson to enter her office. A soft sigh escaped her lips. This was what her life had been reduced to, she thought not for the first time in the past two years. Stand in line, follow lines and stand behind lines. When she saw her name on the call-out list posted on the bulletin board yesterday after returning to her cellblock after work, she was surprised and didn't know what to think. Was it for some disciplinary action she was unaware of? Emily couldn't think of any, but she couldn't let it go. Not knowing had an affect on her sleep, leaving her tossing and turning all night in her bunk and probably annoying the hell out of her cellmate. At ten of two Emily's detail supervisor released her from work so she could make her two o'clock call-out where she now stood cooling her heels._

 _Laura Wilson appeared in the doorway. "Emily, please come in," she invited and stepped back to give her room to enter._

 _Emily stepped over the forbidden white line and entered the office, stopping on the other side for further instructions._

" _Have a seat," Laura gestured to the chair in front of the desk._

 _Silently Emily made her way over to it and sat down with an air of disinterest, folded hands in her lap. She studied the counselor as Laura sat down, opened the file sitting dead center on the blotter and scanned its contents. She had only met with Laura a few times. The graduation diploma was finally up on the wall, and if that didn't tell Emily how young she was, then the sheer hope that she could make a difference did. She hadn't been defeated yet, but it would happen eventually. The poor tailoring of her suit and her overall demeanor told Emily that Laura Wilson was a good, working class woman who had worked her way through graduate school with the genuine drive to make a difference somewhere. It was great, but it wasn't a personality that always meshed well with the prison atmosphere. The woman meant well, but to some, it could come off as a superior attitude._

 _She finally looked up. "Emily, how do you like your work?"_

 _Emily's eyes narrowed slightly at the question coming at her from left field. "It's fine," she stated._

" _You enjoy it?"_

 _Shrugging, Emily just told her. "It gets me outside."_

" _And that's what you look for in a job?"_

" _When I'm in prison, yeah."_

" _But does it make you feel fulfilled?"_

 _Emily looked at her skeptically. I'm in prison, she gets that right? "I guess."_

 _Leaning forward on the desk, hands clasped together, Laura said, "It has been brought to my attention that you've taken it upon yourself to help a few of your fellow inmates. Is that correct?"_

" _Is that why I'm here? I wasn't doing anything wrong," she said defensively._

" _No, you weren't," Laura was quick to reassure. "But that is the reason I summoned you here. I think I have a position that's perfect for you."_

" _I have a job."_

" _But this one is better. You're an educated woman, right?"_

" _Yes," she agreed, not that it was a real question. Emily nearly rolled her eyes. The counselor had her file right there in front of her. Everything was in there. Where she went to school, what she had studied, what she was convicted of…there were no secrets. "Yes, I'm a Yale graduate and it's all in the fucking file," was what she wanted to say, but she held her tongue…just barely._

" _And you speak Spanish, which is some of our inmates only language."_

 _Emily was beginning to get annoyed by the whole conversation. "What's your point?"_

 _Laura pulled out a piece of paper out of the file and set it in front of her. "I think you should apply to be an inmate tutor."_

 _Emily shook her head before the counselor could even finish the thought. "I have a job," she repeated._

" _Emily, you connect with the other inmates and you're a woman who went to school and had a good job."_

" _You said it. Had. I had a good job I loved. Now I'm here." She couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice._

" _These women need you," Laura pressed._

" _How?" Emily asked, staring at her in puzzlement. "By sitting in a group with a bunch of women who wish they were anywhere but there with anyone but me?"_

" _The inmates you would be tutoring want to be there. They want to be challenged and better themselves, to learn from someone who can teach them."_

" _I'm not sure that's me."_

" _Who else do they have? Every year the state is slashing the funding for the prisons education programs so teachers are limited. They need you. Here's the application," Laura said, sliding the paper toward her. "Fill it out."_

" _What if I don't want to?"_

 _Laura plucked a pen from the pencil holder and set it down on the paper. "Fill it out, Emily."_

" _Here?"_

" _Why not? Do you have something more pressing to do? Like picking up litter out in the yard?"_

 _Grounds maintenance wasn't her ideal job, it was the job assigned to her when she had first entered the prison. It definitely wasn't as fulfilling as her old job at the BAU, but it was a hell of a lot better than slaving away in the kitchen or mopping the floors. As she had told Laura before, it got her outside, regardless of the weather, and it gave her the solitude to work on her theories of who had wanted to frame her. But she had to admit it was rather crappy outside today._

" _Not really," she grudgingly conceded._

" _Then this is the perfect time to do it," Laura said with a smile. "This way I can get your application to the head of the education program so she can get the interview with you set up."_

 _Laura was going to make sure Emily got the job even if she intentionally sabotaged her own interview, which she was sure Emily was already thinking about. A woman of her intelligence shouldn't be picking up trash and weeding. She was a Yale graduate and a FBI profiler. Her specific skills set and experience would be better served helping her fellow inmates improve their lives. It would give Emily a sense of fulfillment that was lacking in her current job. Tutoring will get her socializing with the other inmates instead of purposely isolating herself._

 _Emily scooted forward in her chair, picked up the pen and stared at the application. Did she really want to do this? No, she didn't. She didn't want to get involved in her fellow inmates lives, preferring her own company. She had only helped Gina and Kayla because she had felt bad for them. She only wanted to serve her time without incident and get out early. But if she refused to comply, it could end up on her record and possibly have a negative affect on her getting paroled. Maybe she should just screw up the interview and then it will be done with for good. With a sigh, Emily put pen to paper and started filling in the blanks._

" _You won't regret this, Emily."_

" _I already do."_

* * *

"Miss Prentiss? Mr. Gunnarson will see you now."

The receptionist's voice brought Emily's mind back from where it had wandered off. "Thank you," she said, rising to her feet and followed the woman to the corner office.

"Are you sure I can't get you something to drink?"

"Positive, but thanks for the offer." Right now the last thing she needed was more caffeine. Her nerves were already on edge. The receptionist nodded and left Emily standing in the doorway. She took a deep breath and stepped inside.

A man in his late fifties rose and came around the desk. "Emily Prentiss?" he verified, holding out a hand.

"Yes," she said, shaking hands with him.

"Anders Gunnarson. Won't you have a seat?"

"Thank you." Emily settled into one of the two wingback chairs in front of the desk, resting the leather portfolio on her knees and clutched at its edges. As he resumed his seat, she used the time to study him. His name spoke of Nordic descent and he had all the features: blonde with wavy hair, fair skin, tall stature, narrow nose and blue eyes. "Is your family from Sweden?"

"Yes!" he said with a smile. "My father was ten when he and my grandparents immigrated here after the war. How did you know?"

"Anders is a common name in Sweden, but not so much here. And many of your features are similar to those who come from the Scandinavian countries."

"You're very observant."

"It was an requirement of my old job."

"Do you have a resume?"

"I do," Emily said, removing a copy from the portfolio and handed it over.

Gunnarson took his time reading it while Emily struggled not to let her leg jiggle in nervousness. How you appear, act and what you say during an interview has a great impact on whether you got the job or not. On the outside she had to remain cool and collected while her insides were tied up in knots.

"This is quite impressive," he said when he was done, setting the resume down on the blotter and leaning forward. "A major in psychology and a minor in criminal justice from Yale. A Masters in psychology from Georgetown. Fifteen years with the FBI, five of them spent with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Numerous commendations. The ability to speak five different languages. How were you able to learn of many? People often have trouble learning one."

"My mother is in the diplomatic service and we lived in many countries while I was growing up. Languages comes naturally to me. I seem to have the ability to pick them up rather quickly."

"Nice talent to have." Gunnarson cocked his head to one side, taking a closer look at her. She looked vaguely familiar to him. "Is Elizabeth Prentiss your mother?"

"Yes," Emily answered warily. _Please don't let me get this job simply because of who my mother is. I need to get it on my own merits,_ she silently prayed.

"I've met her at several fundraisers over the years. Formidable woman."

"That she is."

He leaned back in his chair; gesturing at the resume to change the subject, seeing his job applicant was uncomfortable discussing her mother. After twenty-five plus years as a practicing lawyer, he had no trouble reading people. Emily intrigued him from the moment David Rossi called, asking if he could possibly help with her situation. It was the first time in all the years they knew each other Dave was interceding for a convicted felon. Normally he was busy putting them behind bars, not helping one to get a job.

"I must say on paper you're overqualified for any of the jobs I have available. Normally I would say with your particular skill sets, you could easily get any job you wanted, but you can't because of this little blip on your record. How long have you been out on parole?"

"A little over three weeks."

"Not having much luck in finding a job I take it?"

"You're the first one to grant me an interview," Emily honestly answered.

"You were convicted of vehicular manslaughter?"

"Yes. I was found guilty on two counts and given ten years for each to be served concurrently. I did five and a half."

"Were there any other additional charges? Normally there's more than one."

Emily was uncomfortable with this and wanted to look away, but she forced her eyes to remain on her potential employer. She wanted him to see that she was being up front with him. Looking away after often meant you were trying to hide something, even if you weren't. "Driving under the influence and fleeing the scene of an accident."

"Any other prior arrests for intoxication?"

"None," she said adamantly. "This was the first and only one."

Gunnarson nodded thoughtfully. What she said didn't mean there weren't other cases of intoxication; it only meant that she got caught this time. A lot of alcoholics were high functioning, apt at hiding their alcoholism while giving the impression that they are a responsible person and able to handle all the problems of home life and work without any difficulties.

"So you received the maximum sentence for what was basically a first time offense."

"I don't think the judge liked me."

"I've heard that one before," he said somewhat dubious.

"I'm sure you have. But it's not often a judge gets a disgraced FBI agent on their docket to use to set an example."

He nodded. "Why don't you tell me why you think your experience will help you in this job."

Emily went through her job history, telling him bits and pieces about each job that she had and how that relates to what she'd be doing there. She had quite a lot of selling points. Despite the job being one she was more than qualified for, she really had to sell herself. And she knew she was making good points but she wasn't sure it was enough.

"Did you have a work detail in prison?"

"Yes."

He asked her to tell him about that and a little more about her time behind bars. He wanted to understand more about her as a person, not a convict, but that was part of who she was so he needed to ask. But talking about it made Emily feel like they were straying off course and her hope was dwindling.

Losing all confidence she asked, "This isn't going well is it?"

"Don't be nervous. It's going fine."

Feeling the job slipping through her fingers, Emily decided to be blunt. "Mr. Gunnarson, I need this job. Not because it satisfies a part of my parole, but because I want to work. I need to work. I need to feel useful again. One of the jobs I had in prison was fulfilling to a certain point, but now I'm out. I have to stand on my own two feet and not on the charity of others."

"Ms Prentiss…"

"Please let me finish."

"Go on."

Emily took a deep breath. "As you said I'm overqualified for the openings you have, but that's okay. I'll take any job you have. I'm a hard worker and I'm willing to learn what I don't know. I promise you won't be disappointed with my performance. I guess all I'm asking for is the opportunity to prove that to you." She gazed at expectedly, slightly biting her lower lip.

He studied her. He liked her frankness, but at the same time he had to take what she said with a grain of salt. Ex cons lie. And yet there was one thing that slightly tipped the scales in her favor: her friendship with David Rossi. "I've met with a few ex cons in the past and tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes I had a good feeling about them and sometimes not. So here's what I'm willing to do. I'm going to take a chance on you."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Don't get too excited just yet. You'll start off with a probationary period. Prove that I'm not wrong for giving you a chance and you can keep the job if you want it. What do you say? Can you handle that?"

"Of course. Yes. Thank you."

"But you must remember that I am an officer of the court and will report to your parole officer any violations of your parole no matter how minor," he said sternly.

"Understood."

Gunnarson picked up a pen. "Who is your parole officer?"

"Bryce Holland." Emily couldn't help making a face when she said his name.

"I know of him. He has the highest rate of parole revocations in the county so I would suggest you toe the line and follow your parole to the letter."

"Believe me that I will. I have no intention of ever going back to prison to finish my sentence."

"I have also heard that before." He shuffled the papers on his desk. "The position I have available is record clerk. I'm afraid it's not very glamorous, not like your previous job. It involves keeping track of, organizing and maintaining the firm's case files. You'll pretty much be scanning, uploading, packing file boxes while documenting and labeling them and sending them to storage. It's a job requiring thoroughness and an eye for detail, which you have in spades from your years as a profiler."

"I'll take it."

"Good. We're a modest size law firm so I can't guarantee you forty hours, but I can give you thirty-two hours."

"That would be fine, Mr. Gunnarson. My parole requires a minimum of thirty hours."

"Please call me Anders. We're informal here and that applies to the dress code. We only get spiffed up when we go to court."

Emily smiled. "Anders."

He returned it. "Your scheduled days will be Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Fridays from nine to five. Wednesday will be your day off unless we need you for anything."

"That's fine with me." Right now she was willing to do whatever he wanted. If he wanted her to work eighty hours, she would gladly do it.

Anders pressed a button his phone and a minute later his legal secretary stepped in. "If you will please go with Lydia. She has the paperwork you need to fill out," he explained as he stood up, offering his hand. "Welcome to Gunnarson and Lund, Emily. See you bright and early Monday morning."

Emily followed suit and shook his hand. "I'll be here. And thank you again for taking a chance on me. I won't let you down."

"I certainly hope not."

He waited for Lydia to take Emily to one of the conference rooms before he summoned his senior paralegal. "Adam," he said when the younger man entered the office. "I need you to run the normal background check on the new hire, Emily Prentiss. She's an ex con so that will come up. I just want to verify that she told me the truth."


	10. Chapter 10

Emily woke with a smile on her face as she stretched out. It was her first day at her new job. _It's going to be a good day,_ she thought. It wasn't her old job, but it was something to keep her mind busy and fill the void, so she was excited. Rolling over, Emily peeked at the time, her body tensing as she did.

"Shit!" she swore. She had overslept.

How was that even possible? Since being in prison, her body became conditioned to wake at six, never failing her, until now. But as a precaution she had set the alarm so why didn't it go off? She checked the alarm and saw that she had accidentally set the damn thing for PM instead of AM.

"Shit!" she swore again.

Throwing the covers off, she hurried into the bathroom, rushing through her morning routine and quickly throwing on the clothes she left out the previous night. Why? Why of all days did this have to happen today? By the time she was done dressing, she knew a full breakfast was out of the question. If she wanted to catch the bus to the subway and make it to work on time, she had to dash.

She paused in the kitchen doorway. _But…what about the coffee?_ She sadly asked herself. _No time_. Emily grabbed a piece of fruit out of the fruit bowl, took up her bag and keys and ran out of the house as quickly as she could, all the while pleading with herself not to be late.

In her mad scramble not to lose her job before she even started, Emily failed to notice Dave and Mudgie standing in the kitchen. Dave had a spatula in one hand and a surprised look on his face. He heard her clattering down the stairs and turned from the stove, intending to ask what she wanted for breakfast, but she blew in and out so fast, he didn't get a chance.

Lowering the spatula, he grinned down at the dog who wagged his tail uncertainly. "Looks like someone is excited to get to work."

* * *

Emily reached the bus just as the door was closing. She pounded on the door to get the driver to open it back up. When he did, she bounded up the steps, profusely thanking him as she swiped her Metro card through the reader. She collapsed into the first available seat as the bus jerked into motion, afraid she was going to pass out if she didn't catch her breath soon. She had planned on taking jogging back up, but sprinting to catch the bus the first time out wasn't exactly easing into the run routine like recommended. _I think I'm going to die. I survived five years of prison only to die on a bus?_

"Are you all right, dearie?" her elderly seatmate asked in concern.

"I'm…fine. Just…a little…winded," she wheezed between breaths.

"Here. Take this." She pressed a bottle of water into Emily's hand.

"I couldn't…"

"You need it more than me. Drink up."

Emily nodded her thanks, unscrewed the cap and downed half of its contents. Then she pressed the bottle to her sweat slick brow, relishing the feel of the coolness of the still cold water against her hot skin.

"Did that hit the spot?" the woman asked after a minute.

"It did," Emily agreed, opening her eyes. "But now I feel guilty taking your only bottle of water. The least I can do is to pay for it." She reached into her bag for some money.

The elderly woman dismissed the offer with a soft chuckle and a wave of her wrinkled hand. "Nonsense. I have another one in my purse and besides; you looked like you could use the water more than I did. You were running really fast."

"I haven't run that fast in years and it shows," Emily admitted with a rueful smile. "My morning hasn't gotten off to a great start."

"It will get better, dearie."

"Oh, god. I certainly hope so."

* * *

Emily's day did seem to get better. The bus arrived at the subway station ahead of schedule, allowing her to rustle up a large cup of coffee and a sinfully delicious brownie before catching her train. She didn't realize how much she missed real coffee until she had a cup of Dave's imported coffee beans after five years of instant coffee brewed in her cell with a hot pot. Like the powdered eggs, she didn't want to see another packet of instant coffee for as long as she lived.

The train arrived on time, already packed to the gills with other people on the way to work. Emily squeezed her way in, standing with her back to the door and one arm wrapped around the pole to maintain her balance. Brownie long gone, she sipped on her coffee and let the clacking of the wheels and the swaying of the car lull her into a state of reflection.

* * *

 _You could have knocked Emily over with a feather when Laura, her Unit Counselor, happily informed her that she had gotten the tutoring position._

" _Ho…how?" she stammered, blinking in disbelief._

" _Gretchen was very impressed with your interview."_

" _Really?"_

 _Emily scratched her head in confusion, having a hard time believing that. She had gone out of her way, short of saying she didn't want the damn job, to sabotage the interview. She was on the surly side, only answering any questions with the bare minimum and doing her best to project an air of disinterest. Any other interviewer would have shown her the door, but apparently not Gretchen. The woman must be immune to uncooperative inmates. Damn! She had been so sure she hadn't gotten the job._

" _Really. I've already put in the paperwork to switch your work detail to the Education Department. You're to report to Gretchen first thing Monday morning."_

" _I…I don't know what to say."_

" _I know. It's quite a surprise." Laura stood up and Emily automatically followed suit. "Congratulations, Emily," she said, holding out her hand. "You'll make a fine tutor."_

" _Uh…thanks," she absently returned the handshake._

 _Emily was still in a daze when she left Laura's office and reentered the common area of her cellblock, oblivious to some of the taunts tossed her way. Even though she had earned the respect of her fellow inmates, it didn't fully stop the snide comments. Everyone knew she was a disgraced agent and constantly reminded her of the fact by calling her Fed-ex. She sat at one of the empty tables and gazed out the barred windows, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she has successfully gotten a job she never wanted in the first place. Now she was stuck with it. If she tried to refuse it, it could end up on her record and possibly reduce her chance at parole. Getting the hell out of here in less than ten years was her only goal, besides surviving being in prison, and she wasn't about to do anything to jeopardize it._

* * *

 _Promptly at seven am Monday morning, Emily presented herself to Gretchen Wolfe, the Literacy Coordinator. The woman was glad to see her and introduced her to the other twenty-three inmate tutors. She expected to receive her normal disdain from them, but they were cordial to her, falsely assuming she was there for the same reasons they were. To help their fellow inmates better themselves and become contributing members of society. While they might have voluntarily applied for the position, Emily had essentially been forced into it._

 _But before she could start her unwanted new job, Emily first had to complete forty hours of specialized training that would lead to her certification as a tutor. From there she would work one on one with the other inmates to increase their reading levels and help them with their studying to get their GED's. Of course, Emily being Emily, graduated at the top of her class, but then she was the only one in her class. She also got a nice bump in pay from ninety cents to a whole dollar an hour._

 _The following Monday Emily received her tutoring assignments and instead of feeling excited at the prospect of helping her fellow inmates, she felt like she was in over her head. When she had helped Gina and Kayla, it hadn't been out of the goodness of her heart. She only wanted to keep Gina from touching her stuff and to stop Kayla from following her around like a lost puppy. Kayla still hung around, but it wasn't as bad as before._

 _Now the job was a mandate. It wasn't something she did for her own reasons, but whether she wanted to or not, she had to do it. Sure, she would be helping others and that would feel good, but it would also remind her about what she wasn't doing, about the job she no longer had, and the people who no longer talked to her._

 _At first, that was all she could think of. She viewed the tutor job as a chore, and it was a process before her perspective changed. Soon, though, she realized that it helped pass time. Emily was good at it, and, in a world where she was a target, it was nice to have something safe to pass time and not be alone. It was also nice to be in a power position. She had a commodity that a lot of the girls there needed, and that worked in her favor. It didn't take long for her view to become more altruistic._

 _The more she worked with these girls, many of them underprivileged and never given a chance to learn, the more she felt a sense of pride and accomplishment in her work. She wasn't saving lives really, but she was giving these girls a chance at a life when they got out of there. Thinking of like that made her enjoy the work. If she was stuck in there, she was going to make the most of it, and tutoring would help with that._

* * *

The screeching of wheels filled the air as the train came to an abrupt stop, jerking the unsuspecting passengers forward. Those standing tightened their grips on the poles and overhead railing to maintain their balance.

"Shit!" Emily swore as some of her coffee sloshed over the rim and on to her hand, bringing her back to the present.

Groans of frustration echoed around her when the driver announced there was a slight delay, but they would be on their way shortly. It wasn't panic time yet for Emily. A quick glance at her watch told her she still had plenty of time to get to work even with the small delay. True to his word, the train was back on the move within minutes, but not at the same speed it had been traveling at before. It limped into the next station and things only got worse from there. Another train had broken down further along the track and they didn't know how long the delay would be.

Emily swore again. Her day was supposed to be getting better, not going in the opposite direction. If was just her luck that breakdown happened two stations from her next stop. If she remained here waiting for service to resume, she would definitely be late for work. Decision made, she exited the train, took the steps two at a time to street level and booked it. This time it wasn't a mad dash, but a steady jog. Either way, by the time Emily got to work with five minutes to spare, her lungs were burning and her legs felt like jelly. _Yup. I'm definitely out of shape. I'll have to do something about it tomorrow if I don't die of a heart attack today_ , she thought as she bent over, hands on knees to catch her breath.

"Emily, are you okay?"

It was her new boss, Anders Gunnarson. Emily shot upright, giving him an embarrassed smile as she brushed back a wayward lock of hair off her sweaty brow. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" he asked in concern, taking in the heavy breathing, flushed face and mussed hair.

"Positive. I just ran here."

"All the way from home?" He knew her driver's license was suspended, but there were easier ways to get around the city than jogging.

"No," she said though it felt like she had and quickly explained about the subway delays. "I didn't want to be late and make a bad impression on my first day of work."

He was sympathetic. "I can understand that." He held opened the door for her. "Well you made it so let me give you the grand tour."

Anders guided her through the law firm, pointing out what he thought interesting and introducing her to whomever they ran into. There were so many names swirling in her head that she figured it was going to take her a week to get them straight and attached to the correct faces. Eventually they ended up in the records department where she would be working and introduced her to Miranda, the very pregnant head records clerk.

"This is Melinda and the head honcho here," he teased. "She's expecting her third child in two weeks."

"If I can last that long," she chuckled softly as she ran a hand over her swollen belly. Emily silently agreed with the woman's assessment. She looked like she could give birth any minute.

"She's going to handle your training so that you'll be ready to fly solo when she finally goes on maternity leave."

"I'll do my best," Emily said, shaking hands with the expectant mother.

"That's all I need," Anders said with a smile. "Now I'll leave you ladies to it. Have fun."

Emily waited for him to leave before asking, "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

Melinda shook her head. "No. We want to be surprised, but secretly I'm hoping for a girl. We already have two boys and it would be fun to buy pretty and frilly dresses for a change."

"Then I hope you have a girl to spoil."

"Thank you. Anders told me the job you held before going to prison required a good eye for detail."

"It did," Emily agreed and left it at that. She wasn't sure how much he had told Melinda about her past so she thought it was best not to divulge any further details in case he didn't say anything beyond that she was an convicted felon.

"Good. Then this job should be easy for you once you learn all the ins and outs."

"I'm a quick study."

"Then lets get on it."

* * *

The morning passed by in a whirlwind of facts, figures, procedures and a ton of paper. Tree friendly Penelope would have had a cow if she saw how paperwork a single case and a law firm could generate. Emily couldn't get it much thought because she was too busy trying to process all the intricacies of being a records clerk. It was more complicated than she imaged and a bit overwhelming. Her first day on the job jitters didn't help either so she was very relieved when lunchtime rolled around. The hour break would give her some time to decompress and get her thoughts into some kind of rudimentary order. It was then that it hit her that in her mad dash to catch the bus, she forgot the lunch she packed the night before.

She was about to go off in search of food when she ran into Anders who was holding a small black bag that seemed vaguely familiar. "It seems someone forgot their lunch at home," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Sweet, good old Dave. Only he would drive out of his way to drop off her lunch so that she wouldn't starve and pass out at work. "Guilty as charged," she said, coloring slightly in embarrassment as she took the lunch bag from him.

"How's it going so far?"

"Fine…I think. There's a lot to learn."

"You'll get the hang of it."

"I just hope I do before Melinda's baby comes," she said with a chuckle.

"I'm sure you will."

As he turned to go, Emily called out his name. There was something she wanted to talk to him about. She had planned to do it at the end of the day after she put in her full eight hours, but since he was right there, she might as well get it over with.

"Anders, I know I shouldn't be asking this, especially on my first day, but I was wondering if I can come in at noon tomorrow? I promise I'll make up the time by staying late or coming in on my day off."

"It is unusual, Emily," he conceded, warning bells going off in his head that he has made a mistake in hiring her. She wasn't the first ex-con to ask for special accommodations and it wasn't something he tolerated. "May I ask why?"

"I have to see my parole officer at eleven."

"Don't you just have to check in with him by phone?"

She shook her head. "No. Believe me that I wish I could, but he requires a weekly face to face. When I got this job, I called him to see if he could switch our meetings to my day off, he told me if I wasn't in his office at my appointed time, he would revoke my parole and send me back to prison." Emily couldn't keep the annoyance out of her voice. "He was on my back for weeks about getting a job and when I finally do land one, he wants me to miss time. Go figure."

Ah, so that's the reason behind her request, he thought. As he told Emily during her interview that he was aware of her parole officer's less than sterling reputation. Holland enjoyed the power he held over the ex-cons unluckily assigned to him. He could revoke their parole for the smallest infraction because he could and that most of his clients couldn't fight it since they couldn't afford a lawyer to do the fighting for them. Well, he was in a position to remedy that. When a request was reasonable and sound, he had no problem with being accommodating.

"Let me see what I can do about that."

Emily smiled in relief; happy that he didn't think she had overstepped her boundaries on her first day of work. Nothing endeared you more to your employer by being difficult and demanding. "Thanks, Anders. I really appreciate it, but you really don't need to trouble yourself…"

He held up a hand to forestall any further protests she may have. "It's not a problem, Emily. Parole officers just love hearing from their client's lawyers."

Her eyes widened. "You're my lawyer?"

"I am for as long as you remain in my employment."

"I…I don't know what to say," she stammered. She honestly was at a loss for words. Anders' offer to help with her little problem was completely unexpected. She figured he would keep his distance until her probationary period was over and he knew she could be trusted.

"I wouldn't spend too much time trying to find your words, otherwise you won't have enough time to eat your lunch," he teased.

Emily liked her new boss's sense of humor and it made her want to do an even better job for him. "Got it."

* * *

The afternoon passed just as quickly as the morning had and just when Emily felt she was starting to get the hang of things, it was time to call it a day and go home. She was tired, physically and mentally, but it was the good kind of tired. It meant that she worked hard today and it left her with a sense of accomplishment. Tomorrow should be even better because she now had a better understanding of the job.

Anders' secretary poked her head into the room. "Emily, Anders would like to see you before you leave for the day."

"Uh…sure. I'll be right there."

After casting a worried look in Melinda's direction, Emily gathered up her things and hurried off to his office, a knot growing in the pit of her stomach. It had to be bad news. The phone call to her asshole of a parole officer must not have gone well. Holland must've refused to move their weekly appointment to another day or time, leaving her new employer with no choice to fire her because he couldn't afford having her missing work every week. Shit. Fired only after one day on the job. This would be a new record for her.

She tentatively knocked on the open door. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did," he said gravely and gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. "Please have a seat."

Nervously Emily slid into the nearest one. I'm totally screwed. He's going to fire me.

Anders leaned forward, resting his clasped hand on the desk blotter. "I had a long talk with Mr. Holland."

"And?" she asked hesitantly, wondering how much her parole officer had badmouthed her. He didn't like her and the feeling was mutual.

His face broke into a smile. "Your parole officer is an asshole."

Relief swept through her. If he was smiling and joking with her, then everything wasn't as bad as she was making it out to be. Prison took away a lot of her self-confidence and self worth, treating her like she was less than a person. It was going to take her time to get them back.

"You're not going to get any argument from me."

"Your appointment with him has been changed to Wednesdays. Holland was annoyed and wanted to punish you by moving the time you have to report to him to two o'clock to mess up your day off. I quashed the idea and moved the time back to ten. Does that work for you?"

"It does. I can get him out of the way early and enjoy the rest of my day. Thank you for tackling that. I know it wasn't easy."

"It was my pleasure. I've always enjoyed a good fight. That's why I became a lawyer."

"I thought helping people would be the main reason you became a lawyer?" she asked with a fake frown.

"That too," he agreed with a grin. Then in a blink of an eye, the all business side replaced the humorous side of him. "If Holland continues to make what you perceive to be unreasonable demands, do as he says so you won't get into trouble, but let me know immediately. I'll get you reassigned to another parole officer who actually wants you to succeed and become a functioning member of society."

* * *

Apparently it was a slow day at the BAU because Dave beat her home. He must also have been on the lookout for her because he jerked the door open just as she was inserting the key into the lock. The momentum caused her to stumble forward.

"Thanks for the warning, Dave," Emily scolded as she righted herself with the help of his hand under her elbow.

"Sorry, Emily. I just wanted to know how your first day at work went," he apologized.

"You could have waited for me to get into the house before starting the interrogation."

"It's a mansion, not a house."

"Whatever," she said with a roll of her eyes as she dropped her stuff on the coffee table.

"So?" he pressed.

"So what?" she shot back, pretending she had no clue what he was referring to just to pay him back for almost making her fall flat on her face walking in the door.

Dave tried to keep his exasperation from showing. When he had dropped off her lunch, he couldn't resist the urge to peek in to see how she was doing. Of course, he didn't blatantly poke his head into the records room, but discretely peered around the doorjamb. What he saw pleased him. The focus she used to give to their cases was being applied to learning the ins and outs of her new job. But if Emily ever finds out he was checking up on her, she would kill him. He didn't want that to happen because he wasn't in the mood to be dead and it would definitely get Emily's parole revoked and another twenty to thirty years tacked onto her original sentence.

"So how did you day go? This morning you seemed excited to get to work."

"More like panicked," she snorted, dropping into the nearest chair and bending over to unzip her boots.

"Stop! Don't do that," Dave said suddenly, stepping forward and waving his hands at her.

Emily froze, left boot still on her foot and the right one in her hand. "What's the matter with you, Dave? You're acting weird. Why can't I take my boots off?" she asked in confusion.

"Because we're going out to dinner to celebrate."

"Celebrate? Celebrate what?"

"Your new job. We couldn't do it the day you got it because the team and I had to go to Fresno for the serial arsonist, but tonight we can."

"Couldn't we do it here?" Emily tried to beg off. "It's been a long day. I'm tired and my feet are sore from all the running I did."

Now it was his turn to look confused. "Running?"

"It's a long story."

"Then you can regale us over a fine meal not cooked by yours truly. The reservation has been made and Penelope is meeting us at the restaurant. What do you say, Emily?"

Now that she thought about it, it didn't sound too bad. A nice restaurant, fine food and the companionship of the only two friends she had left in the world would be the perfect ending to a day that had started off so badly. But then, a nice long soak in the tub with a good book would also do the trick.

Emily shoved the boot back on her foot. "Lets do it."


	11. Chapter 11

_I know you were probably expecting the next chapter of Crossroads, but I'm still working on it. I had a major change in my life back at the end of July and that affected my desire to write. I'm trying, but it's been hard. This story I'm a couple chapters ahead and I didn't want to make you wait another two weeks so I decided to share another one with you. Enjoy._

* * *

Like he had done every day for the last two years, Jack rushed out to the mailbox to see if he had gotten a letter from his favorite and only pen pal Emily. He was getting a little worried that he hasn't heard from her in several weeks and hoped nothing was wrong. Normally he would ask his father, but Hotch didn't like to talk about Emily. Jack didn't know why, but he knew for a fact that every time he said her name, his father would get this pinched look on his face. So after a while he stopped mentioning Emily in Hotch's presence, only talking about her and the letters he got to his Uncle Dave and Aunt Penelope because neither one seemed to be mad at her.

Opening the mailbox, he was excited to see a letter waiting for him, but it quickly faded when he realized it was the last one he sent to Emily. Return to sender was stamped across the front in big red letters. Frowning in confusion, Jack made his way back to the house and into the kitchen where his father was preparing dinner.

"Dad, what does return to sender mean?"

Hotch looked up from the vegetables he was chopping to his ten-year-old son. Every time he gazed upon Jack, he was still amazed at how fast he was growing and how much of Haley he could see in him. His deceased wife was never far from his thoughts.

"It means the person the envelope is addressed to refused it or no longer lives there. Why do you ask?"

Jack held up the letter. "The letter I wrote to Emily came back. Does that mean she isn't at this prison anymore because I know she wouldn't send my letter back. She told me she loves hearing from me."

Hotch internally sighed. He had been waiting for and dreading this moment. His feelings about Emily's situation were just as complicated as they were all those years ago, only now she was out and about in the world and his son would want to see her. He didn't know how to feel about that. He didn't want to prevent Jack from seeing her if he wanted, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to interact with her. So, he had put off telling Jack that she got out, but he wasn't going to lie now.

"You're right that she isn't at the prison. Emily was paroled."

"Paroled?"

"It means she was released early because of good behavior."

Jack's eyes lit up at the news. "She's out of prison for good?"

"For good," Hotch agreed, "unless she violates one of her terms of parole or commits another crime."

Though his feelings about Emily's arrest and conviction were complicated, he truly hoped she would continue to walk the straight and narrow and not do something stupid to get herself tossed back inside. Emily has a tough road ahead of her. She has five years of sobriety under her belt only because it had been forced on her by the prison system, but now she was back in the real world where the temptation of booze was every where. His heart hoped she will remain sober, but his gut told him Emily would succumb to the call of alcohol and fall off the wagon.

"When did Emily get paroled?" he asked, trying out the new word he just learned.

"About four weeks ago," he replied honestly.

Hotch felt his heart break as his son gazed up at him with sad, hurt and disappointed eyes. He had just let him down big time.

"You knew for a whole month that she was out?" Jack accused and then with the innocence of a child, he asked, "Dad, why don't you like Emily anymore? Is it because you think she's a bad person? Just because she did a bad thing doesn't make her a bad person."

Hotch sighed. "It's more complicated than that, Jack. I still like Emily as a person, but I don't like the series of decisions she made that resulted in her going to prison. Those are very hard to forgive."

"You always forgive me when I do something bad."

"What you did and Emily did are completely two different things." _You didn't get behind the wheel drunk and run over two people crossing the street._ "Emily broke the law, you didn't, and she had to be punished for it."

That was what frustrated Jack no end. From the time he learned that she was in prison and not off on a new job, nobody, Emily included, would tell him what she did that was so bad that it got her sent to prison. He was ten and old enough to understand stuff like that.

"I get that, Dad, but you still didn't say why you didn't tell me Emily got out."

Because I'm stalling for time, he thought. "The reason I didn't tell you right away is because I wanted to give Emily some time to get settled in." Hotch gestured for Jack to join him at the kitchen table. "To you or me, five and a half years doesn't seem to be a long time, but to Emily it probably felt like a lifetime. It's going to take some time for her to adjust to living outside of the walls of the prison where everything she did was strictly controlled by the rules and the guards. It's hard to do and a lot of prisoners fail and end up back inside to finish their sentences."

"But not Emily. She's strong," Jack chimed in.

"That she is." She had needed that strength and that stubborn streak of hers to survive five years in general population. "There is also another reason. There are a few terms…requirements of Emily's parole that she has to complete as soon as she got out. She needed to find a place to stay and a job. The second one is harder because a lot of businesses don't want to hire anyone who has been convicted of a crime."

"That's not fair," he protested. "Emily's a good person."

"I agree, but in the eyes of the law she's still a convicted felon even if she is out. That's a fact and one you best remember."

"It's still unfair," Jack grumbled.

"I know, but that's life."

"Did she find a job and a place to stay?"

"Yes. At a law firm and she's currently staying at Uncle Dave's."

"Emily is at Uncle Dave's?" Jack exclaimed excitedly, bouncing out of his chair and onto his feet. "Lets go see her."

"Not so fast, Buddy," Hotch said, snagging his son by the arm before he could take two steps toward the front door. "It's not polite to drop in on people unannounced. Emily may already have plans."

"Then call her on her cell phone and find out."

"I don't know if she has one." And if she did, he doubted he would be privy to it. They weren't exactly on speaking terms. "Tell you what. After dinner I'll give Uncle Dave a call and see if Emily is up for a visit."

It wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to go see Emily now, but he guessed this would have to do…for now. He knew he could push his father only so far, especially when he seemed so reluctant to talk about her.

"Okay, but you promise to call right after dinner?"

"I promise. Now go wash up. It's almost ready."

Hotch sagged in his chair, rubbing his forehead. The conversation with Jack left him mentally exhausted. It had been hard, but at least it was now over. He no longer had to dread it coming up at the most inopportune time. It also reminded him of when he first learned that Jack and Emily were in communication. He was quick to blame Emily, upset that she initiated any contact with his son without first clearing it with him. And for what? What reason would Emily have? To get to him? He was sure she was filling his head with nonsense about how she was innocent and how corrupt the justice system was or something like that.

Obviously, he learned that wasn't true. It turned out Jack overheard him and Dave discussing Emily's situation and broached the topic with Dave later on. That was how the letter writing started, and Hotch insisted on reading all the letters Emily sent. They weren't nefarious or full of rambling about how she was framed, but just friendly talk between a young boy and a woman he cared about. So he let it continue. It even helped him learn about what was going on in his son's life. One of the letters talked about a school bully that Hotch had no idea about. Truth was, the letters were probably good for both Jack and Emily.

Now there was one hurdle left to clear. Soon he would be face to face with the woman he last saw being led out of the courtroom in jail scrubs, handcuffs and leg irons. He had no doubts in his mind that Emily will gladly welcome a visit from Jack. The question was how much of a welcome he personally was going to receive.

* * *

"I don't know. Let me run it by Emily first. I'll call you back," Dave said into the phone.

While Dave was on the phone, Emily had wandered into the living room with a laundry basket filled with clean clothes and sat down on the couch to fold them. She insisted on doing her own laundry including the sheets on the bed and all the towels she used. Dave didn't argue with her, knowing it was one more step toward independence. Over the past month, Emily was able to overcome many of the inmate behaviors that had been drilled into her expect for a few that were so deeply ingrained that Dave figured she would never shake. Every morning after showering, Emily made her bed to regulations and cleaned both the bedroom and bathroom. It once prompted his housekeeper to question if he had an actual guest because the suite was always pristine and nothing was left out of place. It was true. Emily lived there, but she didn't 'live' there. She has done nothing to make the space her own. In her mind it wasn't home, but a fancier and nice cell that she would one day be leaving.

"Run what by me?" she asked when he hung up.

"That was Hotch."

"Oh." Emily resumed her folding. "What did he want?"

The wariness he had seen in her dark brown eyes every time he visited her in prison was back and stronger than ever. She was suspicious of why Hotch wanted to run something by her since he hadn't wanted to have anything to do with her for the past five plus years. Dave didn't blame her one bit for feeling that way.

"He was calling for Jack. He now knows you're out and wants to see you."

Emily almost slapped herself in the forehead as she silently swore. Shit, Jack! With everything going on: getting out of prison, dealing with her asshole parole officer, finding a job and just getting used to living on the outside, she had forgotten all about the little boy. She had meant to tell him the date of her release in her last letter to him, but much to her embarrassment, she couldn't remember if she had. Boy, did she suck at being his friend. In addition to Dave's visits and Penelope's monthly book shipments, Jack's letters had been a lifesaver, another way to stay in contact with what was happening outside the prison walls.

* * *

 _Emily was surprised at mail call when she got a letter in addition to her daily newspaper. Puzzled, she retreated to one of the far tables in the common area and studied the envelope. In the three years she had been locked up, no she knew had ever sent her a letter…until today. She took a closer look at the return address and her eyes widened in shock. Jack Hotchner was the sender. Emily dropped the unopened letter on the table and stared at it. How on earth did he find out where she was? The few times she had talked to Hotch before her trial, she specifically asked him to tell Jack that she has been reassigned and was sorry that she couldn't say goodbye in person before leaving. She didn't want him to know she had been sent to prison. Hotch readily agreed and she assumed that was what he had done. Apparently it was now no longer the case. Emily didn't know what to do. Should she pretend she never got it or open it and see what he had to say? Curiosity won out. Tentatively she picked it up, opened it and began to read._

" _Dear Emily,_

 _I overheard Dad and Uncle Dave talking about you. I know it's wrong to do that, but I couldn't help it. I knew you had to go away, but I thought it was for a new job. I'm sorry you have to be in prison. Dad says only people who do bad things go to prison. I guess that means you did a bad thing just like Dad told me, but that doesn't mean you are a bad person. I do bad things too sometimes. I don't think you are a bad person. I remember all the times we had fun together. We used to play all the time and I miss that. Will I be able to see you again? If we can, we can play games. You can help me build my new Lego car. It would be cool, but I don't know if I can wait too long. I really want to make it._

 _Uncle Dave said I can't call you, but he said you would like a letter because there's not a lot to do where you are and reading is fun. He's helping me with this. He says we can be pen pals. I'm not sure exactly what that means, but he says you will enjoy it and that I will too. He has shown me how to make out the envelope. I have to make sure that your name and the number that belongs to you are on it, along with the address of the prison. And I got to remember to put on a stamp. That's the most important part or you won't get it._

 _Have you made a lot of friends there? I made a new friend in my new class. His name is Matt and he likes all the things I like. We both like to play video games and build things with Legos. It's kind of like that, right? You're not a bad person, so you're not in the really bad prison, are you? Dad won't tell me much._

 _I didn't know what else to write and Uncle Dave said I should tell you what's going on. I got an A on my math test. We learned there are 2 cups in a pint and 2 pints in a quart and 4 quarts in a gallon. That's 16 cups. Isn't that neat? I got that right on my test so I did real good. I'm learning a lot. I read the book you gave me for a book report. It's hanging on the fridge right now. I wish you could see it. Uncle Dave said we can make a copy of it and send it in the next letter if you want to._

 _I miss you, Emily. Maybe I can visit like Uncle Dave does. I'm happy he comes to see you. Would you like that? Let me know if you want me to. I'm sure I can get Dad to take me. Well I got to go. I hope you will write me back._

Your friend,  
Jack"

 _She read it two more times before setting it down on the table. She fingered the page as she gazed out the high, large barred windows lining one wall. Indecisiveness ate her. Jack wanted her to write back, but would that be a good idea? Nowhere in the letter did it say that Hotch knew Jack was writing her or if he actually approved. It sounded more like Dave and Jack and done this behind Hotch's back and the last thing she wanted to do was to get the little boy in trouble with his father. But Jack really wanted to hear from her. What was she going to do was the question of the day._

* * *

 _Emily still hadn't figured it out when Dave came two days later to visit. They talked about inconsequential things as she absently snacked on a bag of Fritos he purchased for her out of the vending machine. Dave kept their chatter going until she finished the last one and had crumpled up the bag, and when the opportunity came, he finally asked what he had been waiting to ask._

" _Did you get the letter Jack sent?"_

" _I did. It was sweet of him."_

" _Have you written him back?"_

" _No," she said with a shake of her head._

 _His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had been so sure she would have jumped right on it. "No? Why not?"_

 _Emily looked away and just shrugged. "I'm not sure I should."_

 _Knowingly, Dave prompted her. "Why?"_

 _Her eyes came back to meet his. "You know why. Hotch wouldn't like it."_

" _But would getting a letter from him make you feel better?"_

" _Well…yeah, sure. You know I care about Jack. But that's—"_

 _He cut her off at the pass. "I know it would make Jack happy to hear back from you, too."_

 _She sighed and uncrumpled the bag, smoothing out the wrinkles. "Maybe it's best that I don't. What good will it do?"_

" _I think it would do a great deal of good for both of you."_

" _I don't know," Emily repeated, unable to shake her doubt._

 _Dave leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Did you ever have a pen pal when you were a kid?"_

" _Yes. A few."_

" _How did you feel when you saw the letter in the mailbox?"_

" _I was excited," she admitted._

" _Don't you want Jack to feel that way?" he pressed._

" _Well…yes, I guess so."_

" _Then don't deny him that experience."_

 _Emily looked up and studied him. "What about Hotch?" she eventually asked._

 _Dave waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about him. Leave that to me to worry about."_

 _Emily gave it some thought before reluctantly nodding. "Okay. I'll do it. But what can I say to him? I can't tell him about what goes on in here. I don't want him to know that kind of stuff."_

 _He repressed a smile. He had her and it had only taken some firm nudging from him to get her going in the right direction. "You're a smart woman. You'll think of something. I have faith in you."_

* * *

 _I have faith in you, Emily thought sourly as she laid in the top bunk staring at the darkened ceiling of her cell. Beneath her in the lower bunk, her cellmate let out a soft snort in her sleep before rolling over. Since lights out at ten, she had been unsuccessful in composing the perfect letter to Jack in her head. Emily would come up with one version and then immediately rejected it for any variety of reasons. After the twentieth rejection, she came to the realization that she was over thinking it. The letter had to come from her heart and not her head._

 _Emily waited for the guards to finish the midnight count before slipping silently down off her bunk and going over to her locker that was set above the two-seat desk. From within she retrieved a pen, book light and her writing pad. Then she retreated to her bunk without waking her cellmate. She propped the lumpy pillow against the wall to act as a backrest and rested the writing pad on her drawn up knees. After clipping the book light to the top of the pad, Emily placed pen to paper and waited to see what words flowed from her fingers to the paper._

* * *

The fondness Emily felt for Jack was replaced with suspicion and a little hurt when what Dave said had actually said sank in. "Jack just found out I was freed from prison? It's been a month.

"Hotch told me he held off telling him to give you some time to adjust to being on the outside and to deal with some of the early requirements of your parole."

"How gallant of him," she said with a snort of derision. "More like he thought if he held off long enough, Jack would think I didn't want to be his penpal anymore when my letters stopped coming."

Dave didn't blame Emily one bit for the animosity she felt toward her former Unit Chief, and to some extension, the rest of the team. She had and still has trust issues because in the past people she depended on and loved constantly let her down. Burned once to many times, she was slow to let people in and when they did earn her trust, she returned it twofold. But once that trust was broken, or in this case, not fully supporting and being there for her even after making a horrible decision, it couldn't be mended. And on the off chance that it was, it wouldn't be as strong as it used to be.

To be truthful, Dave wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be the later. Hotch hadn't been a happy camper when he learned Jack and Emily were corresponding and gave him an earful the next day about him going behind his back and setting up something that was none of his business. Dave gave it back in spades, saying if Hotch weren't so adamant about not discussing Emily in anyway, like she was the black sheep of the family, his son wouldn't have to go to someone else to get the answers to his questions. That pretty much put a halt to the conversation and it wasn't ever mentioned again. Dave had told Emily back then that he would handle Hotch and he did.

Of course he wasn't about to tell Emily what he thought. "I was just repeating what Hotch said. I don't know what his motivation was and I really don't care. The only matter at hand is that Jack wants to see you. Do you want me call him back and invited them to visit tomorrow afternoon?"

Some of Emily's anger faded. She was fond of the boy since the first day she met him all those years ago. It would be great to see him again. "Please do. I would love to see Jack, but I'm not too sure about his father."

* * *

 _The 2017 Profiler's Choice Awards are on! Calling all CM readers and Authors! Join us in the annual Profiler's Choice CM Awards; help us choose the best of the best Criminal Minds fanfiction and let your voice be heard. Check out the nomination ballot and rules at the Profilers Choice Awards 2017 Forum. All rules and information can be found there. Nominations begin November 14, 2017 and end December 31, 2017._


	12. Chapter 12

Yesterday the arrangements were made and in less than an hour Hotch would be bringing Jack over for a visit. Emily was both excited and anxious. Excited because it has been awhile since she last saw Jack and she couldn't wait to catch up on what was going on in his life. Even though they exchanged letters over the past two years, it wasn't the same as being face to face with him and seeing the animation as he talked. She was so looking forward to this visit she had hardly slept a wink.

The anxiousness stemmed from seeing her ex-boss for the first time in close to six years. The last time she saw him was during her trial, but she could never figure out from his expression if he was there for moral support or to make sure that justice was served. As the years crawled by, Emily leaned towards the later. She had no clue how she was going to react when they were in the same room. There were so many emotions at war within her. There was the anger that he didn't believe her and hadn't pulled out all the stops to prove her innocence like he had when Derek was accused of murder. Instead, he accepted the evidence as it was presented to him and told her to get a good lawyer. She was hurt that he hadn't spoken up on her behalf at her sentencing hearing, possibly changing the outcome because he was well respected. Finally there was bitter disappointment that he hadn't visited once during her incarceration even though he had filled out the application and was on her approved visitors list. He hadn't even bothered to show up at her parole hearing.

Just thinking of Hotch got her all worked up, and not wanting Jack to see her this way, Emily searched for a way to calm down. She went over to the desk and opened the drawer that contained all the correspondence she received from Jack for the two past years. Sitting on the bed, she slowly flipped through the mail. Each little note, drawings, school papers and report cards made her feel so much. Jack helped her feel connected to the outside world and, even through limited communication; he was able to bring her such joy. Emily smiled as she reached a very special piece, one that led to some pretty good memories for her.

* * *

 _Emily wasn't expecting any visitors. Dave had sent an email informing her that he was going to miss this week's visit, not due to a case, but because of a book signing in Chicago that his agent scheduled that he couldn't get out of. Of course, it was a common occurrence over the past four years and she was used to it, but she was still disappointed. Dave's twice a month visits were something she looked forward to since it broke up the monotony of prison life. Emily was also jealous because Dave was out living his life and seeing the world. Her life was stuck in neutral and what she could see of the world was viewed through two rows of fencing topped with razor wire._

 _She also attributed her bleak demeanor to another birthday come and gone in this hellhole. It wasn't like her birthday was completely forgotten. Dave and Penelope sent her a card every year, but it wasn't the same as celebrating it with good friends, fine wine and food. So in an attempt to lighten her mood, Emily went outside for some fresh air and sunshine. That was where the guard found her three hours later. She was sitting on top of a picnic table in the exercise yard bundled in her prison issued heavy coat, hands shoved in its pockets and a knit hat jammed on her head covering her ears._

 _After submitting to the required body search, Emily was confused to why she wasn't being escorted to the visiting room, but to one of the private rooms normally reserved for lawyers and those inmates in protective custody. The last time she had been in this part of the visitation center was when she spent three long months in solitary during her first year. Hope suddenly swelled in her chest. Could it possibly be her lawyer coming to tell her that one of the appeals was successful or that some kind of evidence has surfaced that proved her innocence? As quickly as the thoughts occurred to her, Emily just as quickly dismissed them. Her luck wasn't that good. There was no way in hell that her conviction would be overturned after four years._

 _"Surprise!" Two voices shouted the instant she stepped into the room, scaring the crap out of her and causing her to blunder into the guard. She glowered at her, gave Emily a push in the back forward so that she could close the door and lock it behind her._

 _All that Emily could do was to stare dumbfounded at Penelope and Jack who were grinning like two cats that have gobbled up their neighbor's canaries. Of all the people she knew, these two together were the last ones she expected to show up. Especially Jack since he wasn't on her list of approved visitors._

 _Jack hurtled himself at her, wrapping his arms around her waist and smiling up at her. "Happy birthday, Emily!"_

 _"Birthday?" Emily echoed, automatically returning his hug. It was then she noticed the 'happy birthday' banner taped to the wall and the baker's box on the table._

 _"It's not too often one gets to see Emily Prentiss at a loss for words," Penelope chuckled, coming over to give her friend a bone crushing hug, inadvertently squeezing the young boy between them. Jack didn't mind. He was thrilled to see Emily after all this time._

 _"How?" Emily continued with her one word communication._

 _Penelope stepped back. "This is all Jack's idea. He wanted to celebrate your birthday so Hotch pulled some strings with the warden and here we are."_

 _Emily had mixed emotions about that, simultaneously happy and upset. Happy because it was a nice thing for Hotch to do. Upset because it was the only thing he has done for her in the four years she had been locked up in here and he probably only did it to make his son happy and not her. Another thought was swirling through her head was that Hotch shouldn't have pulled some strings because she doesn't want special treatment and if the other inmates find out about it, the target she had worked so hard to get rid of would be squarely back on her back. That was one of the reasons she had requested to be put in with the general population. She wanted to be treated the same as everyone else._

 _"Here you are," she agreed, eyes finally dropping to the boy who still had his arms around her._

 _She was shocked and saddened by what she saw. Gone was the little boy who's head barely reached her waist when he hugged her legs. Now his head hit her mid-chest and by the time she finished her sentence, he would be a young man of fifteen and taller than her. Anger and regret filled her at another precious thing taken away by her wrongful conviction. Even though Jack wasn't her son and she only saw him occasionally, she was still denied the chance to watch him mature into adulthood. Jack has grown so much over the past four years and she had missed it all._

 _Emily wanted to cry about the injustice of it all, but now wasn't the time. These two dear friends have come a long way to celebrate her birthday and that's what they were going to do for as long as they could. She would do her grieving and ranting silently in the privacy of her cell in the dark of night when inmate and guard wouldn't be able to bear witness to her moment of weakness._

 _"Are you surprised, Emily?" he asked eagerly._

 _A genuine smile come to her face. "Very much so, Sport," she said, tousling his hair like she used to. Even his hair has gotten darker, another change she missed. "It's so good to see you." She looked at the technical analyst. "And you too, Pen."_

 _"Same here. It's been too long," Penelope said with a nod, feeling guilty all over again for stopping her visits. She loved Emily to death and wanted to be there for her in every way, but coming here and seeing her this way was just too hard for her to bear. She only came because Jack wanted to come and no one else was available or wanted to. Hotch should be the one here._

 _Emily didn't call Penelope out on her lack of visits. She knew how hard it was for Penelope to come her and see her dressed and locked up like a common criminal. But she still got an 'A' for effort because she tried and when it didn't work out, she found other ways to help and show her undying support. It was sad that the rest of team was unable to do the same. If visiting wasn't feasible, then an occasional letter checking up on her would have been fine, but the only correspondence she got was from the young boy standing in front of her wanting to celebrate her birthday._

 _She turned her attention back to Jack, holding him at arms length so that she could give him a good look over. "My gosh, Jack, you've grown so much since I last saw you. I can see more of your father in you."_

 _He blushed at the compliment. "Dad says I look a lot like Mom."_

 _"I see a lot of her in you too."_

 _"You haven't change either, Emily. You're still as pretty as I remember."_

 _Oh you sweet, adorable little flatterer. "Thank you."_

 _The last four years had taken their toll on Emily. She saw it every time she looked in the mirror when she got her hair cut by one of the inmates working on getting their cosmetology license. There were dark circles under her eyes, face thinner due to the weight loss and the permanent stress lines etched around her mouth and eyes. She didn't even want to think about the occasional gray hair that popped up in her comb._

 _Jack took her by the hand and pulled her over to the table. "Do you like?" he asked, opening the baker's box._

 _Nestled inside were fifteen cupcakes that spelled out 'Happy B-Day Emily' in blue letters._

 _"Just the way you like them," Penelope said. "Yellow cake with chocolate frosting. I would have baked a cake, but you know how they worry about hidden files, lockpicks and stuff like that."_

 _"They wouldn't let up bring in balloons or candles so that you can make a wish," Jack pouted._

 _"Everything is perfect," Emily said, nodding at the cupcakes and banner. "You don't need candles to make a wish."_

 _"I guess so." His eyes lit up with expectation. "But they did let me bring this in," he said, sliding a folded piece of paper out from under the box. Smiling shyly, he held it out._

 _It was a homemade birthday card. Taking it, Emily sat down in one of the chairs and opened it. A lump formed in her throat as she read the words neatly printed inside. Jack stood close by nervously shifting from foot to foot in anticipation. When she finally looked up, her eyes were brimming with unshed tears._

 _"It's beautiful, Jack. Thank you," she gushed and pulled him into a hug._

 _He was so happy she liked it. "You're welcome, Emily."_

 _"You put a lot of time and effort into it," she said when they broke apart._

 _"I wanted it to be perfect because Dad said you don't get to celebrate your birthday when you're in prison. Does the same thing happen to Thanksgiving and Christmas?" Those were his two other favorite special days._

 _"Not quite. We get a special meal on those days, but it's not a home cooked meal shared with friends and family." Instead women who wanted to beat the crap out of her for what she used to represent surrounded her._

 _Her eyes dropped to the card in her hands. Emily loved it and wanted to keep it, but she knew she couldn't. The second she stepped out of the room with it, the birthday card would be confiscated as contraband and possibly destroyed._

 _She sighed and held it out. "The rules don't allow me to keep anything from a visit. I can look at it, but I have to give it back or it will be taken away from me."_

 _Jack's face fell in disappointment. "That's a stupid rule," he grumbled._

 _"It is, but rules are rules and they must be followed even if we don't like them. I would still like to have it so why don't you mail it to me when you get home."_

 _"Actually he doesn't have to do that," Penelope said in a weepy voice. She knew what the card said since Jack had shown it to her on the drive there and she almost cried on the spot. Now she was all choked up watching Emily get choked up. "Hotch got permission from the Warden for you to take it back to your cel…uh…room."_

 _My, my, my. Hotch has certainly been busy, pulling all these strings. Too bad he didn't do any of it when she was initially arrested, she thought sourly. She wanted to say it out aloud, but wisely held her tongue, not wanting to say anything derogatory about Hotch in front of his son._

 _"That's great." Emily rubbed her hands together. "Shall we dig into these delicious looking cupcakes? I call dibs on my name."_

 _Jack took the seat next to her while Penelope sat across from them. "You still have to make a wish even if we don't have any candles," he said._

 _"Of course." Emily closed her eyes and made the same wish she made before going to sleep each night for the past four years. All she wanted was her freedom. A minute later she opened her eyes and smiled. "Done. Now lets eat."_

 _Time seemed to speed up and slow down all at the same time after Emily made her wish and divvied up the cupcakes. She wanted to hold onto the moments that were speeding by so that she had something to pull from when the nights or days got too rough and she needed an escape._

 _Emily thought it was the best prison party there ever was. Possibly the only. It made her feel special because these were her friends. These were the people who cared enough to jump through hoops for her. So she savored it. She wanted to be part of every laugh and smile, of which there were many. Penelope kept the conversation light. They mostly focused on Jack and little things as they gobbled down the cupcakes. None of them were ready when the guard came to break up their fun._

 _The sound of the door being unlocked put an end to the conversation. "You have five minutes to wrap things up," the guard said brusquely._

 _"I guess that's that," Penelope sighed, starting to gather up the empty cupcake wrappers and dumping them in the box._

 _"No," Jack howled in protest. "It's not long enough."_

 _Emily glanced at her watch, silently agreeing with him. An hour and a half was too short. "It's a half hour longer than the normal visiting time of an hour."_

 _"It still isn't long enough," he insisted._

 _"I know, Sport," she commiserated and then turned to her friend. She didn't have much time to say what she had to say. "Pen, can I talk to your for a minute?"_

 _"Sure thing, Em. Jack, could you finish cleaning up for me?"_

 _"Okay."_

 _Penelope followed Emily to one of the corners in the small room. What's up?" she asked with a puzzled look._

 _Emily wrapped her arms around her body as she leaned forward, speaking in a low voice so that Jack wouldn't hear. "Pen, I want to thank you for bringing Jack and giving me this special day that I'll never forget. I know this was hard for you and I really do appreciate it, but," she paused to take a deep breath. "But I think in the best interest of things, Jack shouldn't come back here. I loved seeing him, but I don't want him exposed to this madness. He shouldn't have memories of being in a prison even if it is just for a visit."_

 _"Em," Penelope tried to reason, "what he remembers will be that he got to spend time with you and have fun with you, not that it was here. That doesn't matter to him."_

 _"But it does to me…and I'm sure it does to Hotch too."_

 _"If it truly mattered to Hotch, would he have let Jack come here in the first place? I don't think so. He knew it would be good for both of you."_

 _"Chalk it up to a one time lapse in judgment. I don't think it should happen again."_

 _"I'm just going to pretend I'm not hearing this. If Jack wants to come, he should be able to, and you should be happy to have the company."_

 _"I am happy. I'm always happy for visitors. But he's just a kid. He shouldn't have to be here."_

 _"Well, hon, should and shouldn't aren't always part of reality. You're here and he wants to see you, so whether or not he should be, he wants to be here. Accept that."_

 _Before Emily could point out that Jack's next visit wouldn't be in a private room, but in the main visitation room where other inmates would surround him and unable to have any physical contact with her, the guard returned._

 _"Time's up, Prentiss," she announced._

 _Penelope and Emily exchanged a quick hug. Then Emily went back to the table to retrieve the card where she gave Jack's hair on last tousle. "Thank you, Jack, for giving me the best birthday party I ever had."_

 _He gazed up at her with sad eyes, suddenly throwing himself at her and wrapping his arms around her, thinking if he held on tight enough the guard couldn't take her away. "Emily, I don't want you to be in prison."_

 _Her heart felt like it was breaking. She heard a soft sob from Penelope as she returned the embrace, running a comforting hand up and down his back. Over the top of Jack's head, the two friends locked eyes; Emily's conveying this was the reason Jack should never be allowed to return. Saying goodbye was too hard on the kid, he was only nine…and on her. Penelope nodded that she finally understood._

 _"I don't want to be in prison either, Jack, but I am and there's nothing we can do to change it. But I will be getting out of here one day and when I do, we can hang out as much as you want to."_

 _"Promise?"_

 _"I promise."_

 _"When will you get out?"_

 _Emily sighed. "I honestly don't know. It's up to the prison system. They could let me out early on good behavior or make me serve the whole ten years."_

 _Jack gave it a little thought and said, "I hope it's sooner than later."_

 _"Me too."_

 _The guard intruded by latching onto Emily's upper arm with a vise like grip. "I said time's up, Prentiss. Get moving," she ordered with a sneer._

 _Jack straightened and glared up at the guard. "Her name is Emily," he declared, looking like a miniature version of his father._

 _"It's okay, Sport," Emily said quickly to defuse the growing tension. "I'm used to it."_

 _With great reluctance, and a little help from Penelope, Emily extricated herself from the boy's embrace. As she was being led away, she said over her shoulder, "You keep those letters coming."_

 _"I will. I'll start one as soon as I get home."_

 _"I'm looking forward to reading it," she replied before being pulled through the door._

 _The last image Emily had of them as the door closed was of Penelope standing behind Jack, arms draped over his shoulders and holding him close. Jack was leaning back into her wearing a sullen expression, one made up of worry and sadness at not knowing when or if he'd see her again._

* * *

Emily didn't have to open the birthday card to know what it said. Over the past year she read it so many times she could recite it by heart. While all the letters Jack sent her were kept secure in her locker, she kept the card tucked inside whatever notebook she was currently scribbling her thoughts in. That way on the days she was feeling sorry for herself, she could pull it out and let the bright, carefully chosen colors and the sentiment expressed inside cheer her up.

Of course, if the guard had had her way, Emily wouldn't have had the comfort the card provided. The guard tried to confiscate it the moment they were alone. Emily refused to give it up, holding the card behind her back while insisting the Warden had given her permission to keep the it. The guard scoffed at the idea and threatened to tazer her if she didn't turn over the contraband. Emily told her to go ahead, but warned that the warden might not be too happy to learn that one of her orders hadn't been followed. That made the guard pause her hand inches away from the tazer before checking the validity of Emily's claim with her superiors.

Emily smiled as she propped the homemade birthday card on the nightstand. It was one of the few battles she won with the guards. Since inmates opinions and thoughts weren't considered important, they were after all they were dumb enough to get caught so why care what they think, the guards assumed they were always right. Of course it didn't take long for the prison grapevine to get wind of her special treatment. For the next two weeks the guards and inmates made Emily's life a living hell until the next scandal surfaced to take the heat off her. She was always relieved when she became old news and was left alone. Well mostly left alone except for the occasional new fish thinking they could move up in the pecking order by beating up the resident disgraced agent. It didn't work.

The doorbell ringing followed by Mudgie's barking told Emily that Hotch and Jack have arrived. Emily did a quick check to make sure she looked presentable before hurrying downstairs to renew her friendship with Jack.

* * *

 _The 2017 Profiler's Choice Awards are on! Calling all CM readers and Authors! Join us in the annual Profiler's Choice CM Awards; help us choose the best of the best Criminal Minds fanfiction and let your voice be heard. Check out the nomination ballot and rules at the Profilers Choice Awards 2017 Forum. All rules and information can be found there. Nominations begin November 14, 2017 and end December 31, 2017._


	13. Chapter 13

By the time Emily arrived downstairs, Dave had already admitted the two Hotchner men. Standing side by side you couldn't deny that they were father and son. The family resemblance was uncanny. If you stuck Jack in a suit, he would be a shorter version of Hotch.

"Hey, Sport," she said in greeting, grinning from ear to ear.

Jack eyes lit up in excitement when he spotted her. Dropping the box he was holding, he launched himself at her, almost knocking her down in the process. "Emily! You're out."

"That I am."

"Promise you won't go back in?"

"I have no intention of ever going back," she agreed, returning the hug. "I swear you've gotten a few inches taller since I last saw you."

"He has. He's been growing like a weed this past year," Hotch spoke up. "I swear he out grows something within two weeks of me buying it."

Emily looked up and gave him a cool but polite smile, one that would have made her mother proud. "Hotch."

"Emily. How are you doing?"

"I'm good. I can't complain. You?"

"The same."

The conversation died before it had a chance to get started as the tension between the two filled the air. The comfortable friendship they had for five years was gone, leaving both with little to say to each other. It was like they had taken a huge step back in time to when they were just employer and employee.

Jack stepped in to save the day. He scooped up the box he had dropped and held it up so she could see the picture. "I brought over my Millennium Falcon Lego set. I thought we could work on it together."

"It looks like fun. Why don't we work on it on the dining room table? That will give us plenty of space." She looked to Dave who was standing off to one side quietly watching how things played out. 'If that's okay with you, Dave."

He gave a dismissive wave of a hand. "Knock yourself out. The room only gets used for special occasions and that only happens once in a blue moon."

"Cool. Thanks," she said with a smile. "Come on, Jack. Lets get to work." He nodded and the two hurried off with Mudgie tagging along for the heck of it.

"That should keep them busy," Hotch awkwardly said when it was just him and Dave left. "Jack's been anxious to build the set with her."

"They'll have a good time together," Dave responded.

Both couldn't help but realize their relationship was strained too. Dave understood that everyone had the right to their own opinions and choices, but he also knew that Hotch had made the wrong ones where Emily was concerned. Now that was a dividing point in their friendship.

"Let's take a seat in the den and let them do their thing."

Hotch nodded and followed Dave. Hotch took a seat on one of the sofas, but Dave remained standing, asking, "Can I get you anything?"

"No. No thank you. I'm fine."

"Alright."

Dave nodded and sat on a separate sofa, not too far away to make it weird, but far enough to send the message that they weren't on the same side of things when it came to Emily. When they got comfortable, they could hear the happy laughs of Jack and Emily. It made Dave smile, especially because he wasn't sure how happy Emily had actually been lately. She was isolated, living in a different kind of prison.

Hotch, however, was less thrilled about it.

"He's been talking non-stop about her since he found out she was paroled," Hotch said.

"That's good. They're good for each other."

"Really?" Hotch doubtfully asked. "It's good that my son would rather spend time with a ex-con than someone his own age?"

Dave's head snapped to attention, staring directly at Hotch. "That ex-con was once someone you trusted with your life and who had a connection with your son long before. And need I remind you that said ex-con is a college educated, brilliant woman who helped us take down countless serial killers and has always cared about you and your son."

Hotch tried to back track. "I didn't mean it the way that came out."

"Sure," Dave rebuked.

"All I meant was that Jack seems to enjoy spending time with her more than his other… friends." Was that what Emily was? Their friend? No… Jack's friend.

"Uh huh… Jack is a good kid. Just like Emily's a fine woman. There's nothing wrong with their friendship. Maybe he needs her as much as she needs him. Maybe you should think about the whole picture rather than just your own feelings. Whatever she may or may not have done, she's not a predator, and she's not out to hurt anyone."

"I know," Hotch said shamefully.

That was the end of that. They sat there looking around the room like neither had seen it all before, avoiding each other. It was pretty unbearable. All they could hear were the faint sounds of Jack and Emily.

"Maybe I'll take that drink after all," Hotch said, breaking up the tension.

Dave was thankful for the out. "Water, coffee, juice?"

"Coffee would be great."

"I'll be right back."

Hotch sat in wait wondering how things between all of them seemed to have shifted now more so than the years Emily was in prison. He didn't want it like that. No one did.

When Dave returned, Hotch thanked him for the coffee and took the mug. They made awkward small talk after that before just talking about work. That seemed like a safe subject, and it ate enough time that Hotch could pull out one of his excuses to leave.

* * *

Jack was already tearing into the box by the time Emily sat down at the table. He dumped out the contents and began arranging the plastic bags in numerical order. She picked up the instruction booklet. "Boy Legos have changed since I was a kid. We didn't have sets like this back then."

"What did you have?"

"A box full of basic brick shapes in multiple colors. We had to use our imagination, though I doubt I could have come up with this."

"They probably used a computer to figure it all out."

"Probably," she agreed. "Shall we get started? I really want to see what it looks like when it's done."

"You bet!" Jack grinned and ripped opened the bag labeled with a one.

As they worked, he kept glancing at Emily. Jack was always a curious boy. He always wanted answers and always had questions. A trait that often drove his father up the wall when his curiosity got the best of him. But as he grew older and wiser, he learned that there were some times that he shouldn't ask those questions. Right now was one of the times he wasn't sure about. He knew he wanted to ask. He wanted to know what Emily did that got her sent to prison.

Since he found out what happened to her, Jack wondered what she could have done, especially because she was always so nice to him, he couldn't imagine it being too bad. But good things don't get people sent to prison, right? And if she did something bad, that would make him sad, still, he wanted to know. When he had asked, everyone became tight lipped, probably thinking he was too young to understand. Well he was older now and he wanted to be able to understand, but he wasn't sure he could, would he still like her if it were something really bad? It couldn't really be that bad though. She was Emily. Emily was good. She used to catch the really bad guys with his Dad. Did good people do bad things sometimes? It was a very complicated thought process for the young boy.

"Emily, can I ask you a question?" he finally ventured.

"You sure can, Sport. What's on your mind?"

Jack put down the Legos and swiveled in the chair so that he could look at her. "What did you do that was so bad that you went to prison for it?"

Emily blinked in surprise. That wasn't the question she was expecting. She assumed the reason for her incarceration would come up at some point in time, but she didn't expect it to be this soon. She had taken great care to never to refer to it in her letters to him and judging by the fact Jack was now asking, Hotch hadn't mentioned it. The same probably applied to Dave and Penelope. But at the same time she didn't think he was ready for it. After all, he was just a little boy.

"Jack, I don't think…" she started to say, but got no further when he cut her off.

"Nobody will tell me anything, including you. You all think I'm too young. It might have been true when you were sent to prison because I was just a little kid back then. I'm a lot older now. I'm ten, almost eleven."

Everything Jack said was true. The proof of how much he has grown was right there in front of her eyes. In her mind, he was still the same little boy she last saw over five years ago when her life unraveled. Even his visit last year for her birthday couldn't erase the image. And because of that, she was unconsciously treating him like a five-year-old child.

"Alright," she agreed and took a deep breath. "Do you know what drunk means?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "Drunk is when you drink too much. Like if I drink too much soda, I'm sugar drunk, but I asked Dad and he said it means something different for old people. It's when you drink too much of an adult beverage and it makes you act funny."

Emily didn't take it personally that Jack had just called her old. To him, anyone over the age of thirty was old. But then prison can make a person look and feel older than they actually where. She certainly felt it.

"Correct. I was found guilty of two counts of vehicular manslaughter. That means while I was drunk, I got behind the wheel of my car and hit two people crossing the street."

Jack's eyes grew wide as he whispered, "They died?"

"Sadly they did."

"But you didn't mean to kill them."

She shook her head. "No, I didn't. That's why the charges were for manslaughter and not murder. It was a horrible accident caused by my impaired judgment."

"But why would you do that?" he asked with a very Hotch like frown. "Why would you drive if you knew you shouldn't?"

"There's no answer to that, Jack." The answer was intentionally vague. She couldn't tell him she didn't it do it because Hotch may not let her see him again nor did she want to cope to it. Both left a sour taste in her mouth. "It was a terrible thing that happened and I wish every day that it didn't."

Jack took a few minutes to absorb it all. What Emily did was really bad. Killing people was wrong, even if it was an accident. But she said she didn't mean to kill them and was genuinely sorry that it happened. He believed her. Emily was still a good person; she just made a really dumb decision. He's made a lot of dumb decisions and his father still loved him. She was punished as she should have been and it sounded like she has learned her lesson. He decided then and there that he would continue to be her friend since she needed one, but on one condition.

"Emily, do you promise that you'll never do that again?"

Emily had no problem with making that promise since she has never driven drunk in her life regardless that people and the courts thought she did. She knew it was true and that was all that counted. "I'm promise."

"Pinkie swear?"

"Pinkie swear," she agreed solemnly, hooking pinkies with him.

Jack smiled in relief. "Good because I don't' want you to go back to prison."

She returned the smile. "Me neither. Now I have a question for you that's been on my mind for a while."

"Sure." He rather was enjoying this.

"How did you ever come up with the idea of throwing me a birthday party?" she curiously asked.

His smile got wider. "I overheard Dad and Uncle Dave talking about you."

* * *

 _Fall leaves were starting to change and the weather was good, making it a nice day for Hotch and Jack to hang out together. Since there was no case on the horizon, Hotch made plans to take Jack to the park after they did a little shopping. Jack had a birthday party to head to that coming weekend and they needed to pick up a present._

 _But first, Dave decided to stop by for a visit. Hotch, sensing that the visit may not be a completely social one, sent Jack up to his room for a bit._

 _"Get a bag ready for the park. If you want to kick around the soccer ball or practice batting, get your things together."_

 _Jack, of course, obliged, but that didn't stop the curious young boy from doing a little eavesdropping as well. After getting out what they'd need for their day out, Jack snuck down to the middle of the stairs and sat on the steps listening. He couldn't hear everything, but from what he did hear, he understood that they were talking about Emily. That got him even more curious and he tried to take a few more steps down, stopping when they creaked under him and the conversation seemed to still._

 _When the adults continued talking again, they were quieter. Jack only caught the tail end of it._

 _"I hate that I can't be there. I hate canceling our visits, especially one so close to her birthday, but I can't get out of it," Dave told his father._

 _"What do you want me to say? I'm sorry you can't make it."_

 _"I'm the only one that visits. Just consider going to see her. Alright? I should get going."_

 _Jack scattered when he heard the footsteps and headed back to his room. His father called him down shortly after, and he lugged the bag down with him._

 _They spent as little time as possible shopping. Too much time in a toy store with a young boy could be costly. Thankfully, Jack knew exactly what he wanted to get his friend, so it was pretty painless. Hotch, however, noticed that his son was a little lost in thought at times and seemed to be perusing a little more than normal. He made note to ask Jack about it later if he didn't bring it up himself._

 _After purchasing the present, the two drove to the park not too far from their house. The weather was still nice enough to enjoy the outdoors and they wanted to take advantage of it._

 _"When we get home, we'll wrap it and then I'm going to put the present in the closet. No trying to open it. Remember that it's a gift and not for you."_

 _"I know, Dad," Jack said. "I won't touch it."_

 _"Good. Now let's play."_

 _They walked toward the field, stopping near one end with the goal post._

 _"Hey, Dad," Jack called to him as he started putting the ball and equipment down on the ground._

 _"What is it, Bud?"_

 _"When's Emily's birthday?" he asked._

 _"Uh… October. Why?"_

 _"October what?"_

 _"The twelfth."_

 _"That's soon."_

 _"It is."_

 _"Are you going to go to her party?"_

 _"Her party?" Hotch asked, confused why he'd be asking about Emily's birthday and what gave him the idea that there'd be a party._

 _"Yeah, are you going to go to her birthday party?"_

 _"They don't have birthday parties in prison."_

 _Jack frowned at that. "Then what do they do? Is it like when someone has a birthday at school? Like Jeremy had a birthday last week and even though he didn't have a party, he brought in cupcakes and the teacher let us sing happy birthday?"_

 _"No… No, it's not like that."_

 _"Then what's it like?"_

 _Hotch moved away from their stuff to sit on the nearby bench and motioned for Jack to join him. "They don't really do anything for birthdays."_

 _"Nothing?! Not even a cake or presents?"_

 _"No. Prison is… it's not the kind of place where you celebrate things."_

 _"But it's her birthday. She should have a party and lots of friends around to make her feel happy."_

 _"People who are in prison aren't there to have fun, Jack. Prisoners have done something wrong that put them there, so they're paying for their crimes and that means missing out on having things like parties and special days like that."_

 _"Just because she did something bad doesn't mean she should be alone on her birthday," he protested._

 _Hotch sighed. His son was naïve and ignorant to the realities of prison and crime. He was such a sweet boy too, and that made him even more of an idealist. "No, it doesn't," he agreed._

 _Before he could continue, Jack jumped in. "So we can go see her?"_

"We? You and I?" Hotch's eyes widened at the thought.

 _"Uh huh."_

 _"Um… No Jack. I'm sorry, but that's not likely. On the day of her birthday, it's not a visitation day."_

 _"Then we can go the closest visitation day to her birthday."_

 _"I… have plans, Jack. I'm sorry, but we can't go."_

 _"What kind of plans?"_

 _"Adult plans that I don't need to explain to you." His tone was rougher than he meant and he could see that Jack was sad. "I'm sorry."_

 _"Maybe Aunt Penelope can take me," Jack offered. "Then you don't have to go if you don't want to and Emily doesn't have to be lonely."_

 _"I can't make decisions for Aunt Penelope."_

 _"But you'll ask her?" Jack's eyes pleaded with him. Pretty please, they said. Do it._

 _Hotch gave in, sighing again. "I'll ask her."_

 _"And I can make her a card?"_

 _"Sure."_

 _"Will you help me?"_

 _"Yeah, sure Jack. We can talk about this more when we get home. Alright? Let's just have some fun for now."_

 _"Ok. You're goalie first," he said, jumping up to head over to the ball._

 _Hotch watched his son in both awe and frustration. He wanted to protect Jack from the whole Emily situation as much as he could, but the boy seemed determined to jump right in it. Hotch was proud though, with how loyal his son was and how much he wanted to be there for Emily, especially when he couldn't get passed his own anger and feelings to do the same._

 _"Dad, hurry up!"_

 _"I'm coming," Hotch responded, getting up to play with his son. If nothing else, they were going to have a nice afternoon, hopefully leaving anymore Emily talk for later._

* * *

"You do know that it isn't polite to eavesdrop on other people's conversations?" Emily asked when he was done.

Jack had the decency to look contrite. "I know, but when I heard your name mentioned I couldn't resist."

Emily smiled and reached over to tousle his hair. "Promise me you won't do it again?"

"I promise."

It was her time to say it. "Pinkie swear?" she asked, holding up her hand and waggling her eyebrows.

Jack grinned. "Pinkie swear." They went through the motions again, this time adding a fist bump at the end. He picked up the Lego section he was working on. "This year your birthday party is going to be awesome. We're going to have everything we couldn't have the last time. Balloons, a cake, candles, a ton of presents and maybe even a pony."

She laughed. "I think I'm a little old for a pony."

"But I'm not."

"Then by all means go for it," she said with another laugh.

That gave Emily an idea. Maybe the next time he's over, she could take him riding. It's been a long time since she's ridden a horse, but it's just like riding a bike. Once you learn how, you never forget. Jack would get a kick out of it and so would she. She would also get saddle sores, but all the aches and pains would be worth it. Emily was sure she could find a riding stable that wouldn't violate the fifty mile limit of her parole.

"I think I will," he decided and then a mischievous twinkle came to his eyes. "Emily, can you see Dad on a horse?"

Emily tried to picture it. All she could see was Hotch astride a pony, feet dragging on the ground and dressed in his best suit. Neither the rider nor his mount looked very happy. The corner of her mouth curled into a smile at the absurdity of it. "No, I can't."

"Me neither," he confided with a grin and the two burst into a round of laughter.


	14. Chapter 14

The visit seemed to be going well; full of fun and laughter and then it came to a crashing halt with the appearance of Hotch. He stepped into the room, noting the two dark heads bent over the partially assembled space ship.

"Time to go, Jack," he announced loudly.

"But, Dad, we're not done," Jack whined.

"You can finish it at home."

"I want to finish it with Emily. We both want to see how it turns out."

"Jack, you heard me. Pack it up," Hotch said in the tone that meant the discussion was at an end and he expected his son to heed his words.

Emily, surprised by Hotch's abrupt appearance, glanced at her watch. The visit had lasted one whopping hour. She had a longer visit with Jack in prison. "What's the rush, Hotch? Do you have somewhere more important to be?"

"An appointment."

"Why don't you leave Jack here and go to your appointment. You can pick him up later or I can drop him off at your house. This way he'll have plenty of time to finish. I don't mind watching him."

"Yeah, Dad," Jack chimed in, looking expectedly at his father.

"The appointment involves Jack."

Emily's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. Something fishy is going on. It sounded like he was making it up as he went along. "If you knew you had an appointment today, why did you agree to bring him over knowing it was going to be a short visit?"

"I just remembered it."

"You just remembered," she echoed skeptically. Now she knew he was lying through his teeth. Since becoming a single parent, Hotch kept track of everything involving his son no matter how small. He would never forget an appointment.

Slowly she stood up, fixing Hotch with a level stare. "Jack, hold off on packing up for a moment. I need to talk privately with your father."

Jack's eyes flickered back and forth between the two adults, sensing the tension that was suddenly filling the room. Wisely he chose to keep out of it. "Uh…okay," he agreed, turning back to his Lego set.

"Thank you. Hotch, a word?" she asked coolly.

He nodded his consent. Silently Emily led him through the house and out onto the patio where they couldn't be seen or heard by Jack. She walked to the grasses edge, stopped, crossed her arms and took several deep breaths. When she finally turned to face him, her eyes were burning with indignant anger and hurt.

With the same fire in her voice, she asked, "What's going on, Hotch?"

He played if off like he had no ideas what she meant.

"Don't do that. You're better than that. What's the problem?"

"Emily…" he started, but the way he spoke said it all. Clearly, she was the problem.

She took a step closer. "If you didn't want to do this, you didn't have to. But showing up and then acting like an ass with an excuse that you could have tried a little harder at, was unnecessary."

"Jack wanted to see you."

"Great. And I want to see him. But you didn't need to come with him or even bring him if you were just going to lie to leave."

"I'm not lying," he claimed.

"Stop." Emily held up her hand. "I may not be a profiler anymore, but I still know how to profile. You're uncomfortable and you're making everyone uncomfortable too."

"I can't help it if I don't want my son around an ex-con," Hotch admitted.

The words stung. "Then you shouldn't have agreed to this in the first place. Whatever you think of me, I'm not a bad person and I'm not a bad influence on Jack."

"Maybe you're right. I shouldn't have agreed to this."

"Well, it's a little late for that. You're here and Jack's here. He wants to stay longer and so do I. We need to figure this out."

"It's not that easy, Prentiss," he stalled.

"Yes, it is…" she trailed off, studying his face. "Wait. You're afraid the moment you leave I'm going to hit the booze, get rip roaring drunk and then get behind the wheel to get him home. Am I right?"

Hotch's silence was all the answer she needed. "You know me, Hotch. You know I love Jack and I would never do anything that would put him in harm's way. You don't trust me."

Again Hotch knew Emily right on both counts. She loved Jack like he was her son and doted on him whenever she got the chance. Like she said, she would never intentionally put him in harm's way. She always put the welfare of others before hers and that added pressure, when combined with the pressure of the job, pushed her to turn to booze for help and not to her friends. How long she'll be able to resist the siren call of the bottle was what worried him. Prison forced sobriety on her by denying her access to alcohol for five years. How will she fare without that restriction?

But all of that wasn't going to get him out of his current predicament. He wanted to take his son and run, but the hurt in her eyes and voice stopped him. Emily really wanted, was looking forward to spending quality time with Jack and vice versa. If he denied it, it would make him the bad guy and that image didn't sit well with him.

"Dinner is at six. Please have him home by then."

Emily blinked at the sudden reversal. He hadn't denied that he didn't trust her anymore and she could continue to hammer him at him until he did, but she chose not to since she wanted to see Jack on a regular basis. Push Hotch too hard and she'll never talk to Jack again. She has already missed five years, she didn't want to miss the rest of his life.

She swallowed her anger and hurt, offering a small concession. "I'll have him on your doorstop promptly at five thirty. You have my word."

"And I expect you to stand by it," he said and went to tell his son about the change in plans.

"Oh, I will," Emily said softly to herself as she followed her ex-boss back inside. "Once I give my word, I never break it."

* * *

As Hotch prepared dinner, his thoughts drifted to Emily and the consequences of her actions. They spread far beyond her arrest and eventually imprisonment. It was apparent she didn't realize that her conviction put the whole unit under greater scrutiny. Every case she had participated in was reviewed in depth, looking for any discrepancy in her behavior that could indicate that she had been under the influence at the time. The process was still ongoing five years later. The bureau was working to avoid getting a public black eye if any of the convictions was overturned on a technicality. Defense lawyers up and down the board were still filing appeals on behalf of their clients hoping Emily was drunk on the job.

The team was also constantly monitored. All reports were sent to a review board to verify everything had been done by the book before the case was officially closed. Every decision he made was second-guessed and he has to justify in triplicate any requests for additional funds. It's been a long and frustrating five years and it wasn't going to get better any time soon. The threat of the team being disbanded and everyone demoted and reassigned was still a strong possibility. It would be years before the taint of Emily's poor judgment is eradicated and the team has regained its status as the best and above reproach. Emily has tarnished their reputation.

The doorbell ringing brought Hotch out of his musing. A glance at his watch as he went to answer the door told him it was five thirty. Jack was home.

"Five thirty on the dot as promised," Emily said as soon as he opened the door.

"You didn't have to ring the doorbell. You could have just come in."

"Jack said the same thing, but I didn't want to take the risk of you calling the cops and having me arrested for breaking and entering."

He frowned. "I wouldn't do that."

"Times have changed. I'm sure you're doing things now that you never thought of doing six years ago. Look at me. I never imagined I would end up doing time in prison."

* * *

 _The reality that she was actually going to prison for ten years hit Emily as she stood in line, cuffed hands secured to her waist and ankles locked in leg irons, waiting to be loaded onto the bus to be transported to the Greenblatt Correctional Facility for Women. The forty days she spent at the intake center being poked and prodded, tested, interviewed, investigated and finally classified was a walk in the park compared to what she was facing. There she could pretend that after the forty days were over, she could go home and forget all about it. Instead, she'll be spending the 3,650 days; minus the forty days she just served, dwelling on her wrongful conviction._

 _When it was her turn, Emily stood staring impassively at the barred windows on the bus while one guard compared his data against the inmate ID band she wore around her left wrist. At the same time, a second guard checked that the handcuffs and leg irons were double locked before roughly frisking her for contraband. He even forced her mouth open to make sure she had nothing hidden inside it. Once they were satisfied she was who she was supposed to be, wasn't carrying anything illegal and was properly restrained, one gave her a not to nice shove to the back._

 _With the chain running between her ankles restricting her stride, Emily carefully mounted the steps of the bus. She shuffled down the aisle and settled into an empty seat as far away from her fellow passengers inmates as possible. She turned her face to the window saying goodbye to her freedom and the life she knew._

" _Listen up, ladies!" the guard said with a sneer once everyone was on board, rifle clutched tightly in both hands. "This is a one way trip to your new home. This is also a no frills trip. No food, no drinks, no potty breaks and most important, no talking. I don't want to hear one peep out of any of you. You're not to speak unless spoken to. Have I made myself clear?"_

" _Have I made myself clear?" he repeated louder when he was greeted with silence._

 _A chorus of mumbled 'yes, sir' filled the air._

 _He smirked as he slammed the barred door that protected the guards from the prisoners in case of a riot, shut and locked it. "Good. You might as well make yourself comfortable or as comfortable as you can in chains. It's a long ride with multiple stops."_

 _The guard wasn't exaggerating. It was a long and rough ride. The bus was in bad need of new shocks so every bump jostled and rattled the teeth of its unwilling passengers. Emily was pretty sure her tailbone was going to be badly bruised by the time they arrive at the prison and the shackles already chafed her wrists and ankles. She kept her eyes on the passing scenery, trying to memorize it all so she had something nice and pretty to remember when her world was reduced to stark walls, bars and fences topped with razor wire. Though her face appeared calm, the jiggling of her right leg and the way her fingers played with the chain that ran from the transport belt locked around her waist to the leg irons betrayed her anxiety._

 _Emily did her best to ignore the soft sobbing and moaning coming from some of the prisoners. Unlike them, she was resigned to her fate. Her lawyer was busy filing appeals on the grounds that the sentence was much too harsh for a first time offense, but she had little faith her conviction would be overturned. The evidence against her had been rock solid. So solid that she couldn't poke a hole in it and she had tried her damnest to put many holes in it. Whoever had framed her knew what they were doing._

* * *

 _After what seemed to be an eternity, the bus pulled through the sally port of the prison and came to a stop. The guard armed with the rifle stood up and unlocked the door. "Everyone out!" he ordered, "And form a line."_

 _One by one they shuffled off the bus and formed a ragged line, standing shoulder to shoulder. Some gawked at their new surroundings. Others, who have been through this before, simply looked bored. Emily's eyes were locked onto the doors leading into the prison. Once she stepped through them, she wouldn't be coming back out for a long time. A female guard exiting broke her line of sight and Emily silently watched the woman slowly walk the line studying each and every one of them with a critical eye. She gave Emily a longer look over than the rest, making her wonder if her reputation had preceded her. That wouldn't be good. The inmates…and the guards would make her life a living hell for the next ten years if they knew she was a disgraced agent._

 _The woman finished her inspection, circled back to the center of the line and said with distain, "What a sorry lot of convicts I've ever seen. When I call out your name, step forward." She held up a clipboard and began rattling off names._

" _Prentiss!" she barked._

 _Emily stepped forward, head held high and eyes straight ahead, hating the way her name sounded coming off the guard's lips. She remained that way until roll call was finished and they were ordered to move. Only then did she let the reality of her situation settle in. With head now bowed and shoulders slumped, she followed the prisoner in front of her into the Receiving and Discharge Unit, the rattling of her shackles echoing in her ears. Never in her wildest dreams did she picture herself being chained up like a wild animal and being treated like she was lower than dirt by her fellow man. It was humiliating._

 _Inside the unit her humiliation only got worse. Once the symbols of her imprisonment were removed from her wrists and ankles, she was stripped of the orange jumpsuit and disinfected. Then she was subjected to a very intrusive search of her body to make sure she wasn't attempting to smuggle in any contraband. It took all of Emily's willpower to keep her hands on her head and not lash out with her tongue or fists as the guard's gloved hands probed places they normally had no right to be._

 _After donning khaki inmate scrubs, Emily's fingerprints were verified by scanner and was submitted to a new set of mug shots from the front and side, one that would appear on her prison issued ID badge along with her name and inmate number. She was also assigned a job and a bunk in cellblock B._

 _The final step in her total humiliation was the prison version of a perp walk. Carrying the additional institution clothing and health and comfort supplies issued to her, Emily and a few others were marched, single file, through the cellblock to their assigned cells. Those inmates who weren't working taunted them every step of the way. Emily's was on the second level. The guard escorted her up, roughly shoved her in and ordered the door closed. She would remain locked up until the end of the workday when the rest of the inmates returned._

 _Emily, still holding the plastic tote with her prison issued stuff inside, sadly looked around her new home away from home. The cell didn't seem large enough to house one prisoner, let alone two. It had double bunks along one wall. On the other was a desk with two swing out seats, two lockers hanging over it, a sink and a toilet. A barred window on the back wall let in some natural light and a view of the exercise yard. She hated it on the spot, and though she knew it was futile to do so, she wished she were anywhere else but here._

 _Letting out a sigh, Emily set the tote down on the top bunk; her assigned bunk, and went over to the door, wrapping her hands around the bars. She gazed forlornly down at the common area. From this point on she would have no say in how to live her life. Everything she did would be strictly regulated and monitored. She would be told when to sleep, when to eat, where to go, what to wear and countless other rules and restrictions that took away her right to decide. She was a convicted felon and it really sucked._

* * *

Neither had he. Emily Prentiss was the last person he would have expected to break the law. Her dedication to the job was something her always admired and it also proved to be her downfall. But he also had the same thoughts about Elle Greenaway and look at what happened. She murdered a man, albeit a rapist, in cold blood and got away with it because they couldn't prove it. It just showed that you really never knew what a person is truly capable of doing.

"Hey, Dad. Isn't this awesome?" Jack asked, holding up his Lego replica of the Millennium Falcon.

"It is," Hotch agreed and spent several minutes admiring its construction. "Now go and get washed up. Dinner is almost ready."

"Okay." Jack turned to Emily. "I had fun, Emily. I'm glad you're out of prison."

"I second that, Sport," she said, reaching out to tousle his hair. "Night."

"Night," he said and ran inside, leaving the two adults gazing at each other uneasily.

Hotch gestured at the open door. "Since you're here, would you like to stay for dinner?" he offered.

Emily realized he was offering her an olive branch and she appreciated the effort, but it was too soon. There were still a lot of issues between them that needed to be resolved before they could even consider themselves friends.

"I don't think I can, but thanks for the offer, Hotch. Maybe we can when we're on better terms. Besides I have a cab waiting." She jerked a thumb at the car idling at the curb.

"Okay. Another day then."

"Sounds good. Bye, Hotch."

"Bye, Prentiss."

He waited or her to get halfway down the walk before he called out her name. When Emily stopped and turned to face him, he said, "You were right earlier. I don't trust you, but I would like to change that." For my son's sake, he silently added.

Emily sighed and walked back up to him. "That's going to be hard, Hotch, because I don't trust you. You let me down big time. When I needed you in my corner, you were nowhere to be found and that hurt. It still does. When Morgan was falsely accused of murder, you and Gideon bent over backwards to prove his innocence. When it happened to me, you told me to get a good lawyer. That was the last meaningful conversation we had."

It was his turn to sigh. "All the evidence against Morgan was circumstantial. The detective was manipulating Gideon's profile to match his suspect. In your case all the evidence was direct, from the eyewitness accounts to the amount of alcohol in your system. I went through it with a fine tooth comb and I couldn't disprove a thing. What else could I do?"

Her anger flared and she didn't keep it from showing. "There was a hell of a lot you could have done. You could have believed me. You could have told me you were going to work on my case until you found the evidence of a frame up and clear my name. You could have stood up for me at my sentencing hearing. With you as a character witness, I might have gotten probation instead of ten years. You could have visited me in prison and attended my parole hearing. Dave is like you, he believes I did it, but he didn't let it stop him from being my friend and supporting me through the hardest part of my life. Did you do any of those things?"

"No, I didn't."

"I rest my case."

Without another word, Emily spun on her heels and quickly made her way to the waiting cab. Hotch remained where he was until the car was out of sight before going in to his son. Throughout dinner his mind kept drifting back to what Emily said. Maybe she was right. He saw the evidence. He was convinced she was guilty, but, out of courtesy for his once friend, he should have at least heard her side and looked into a little more.

* * *

Emily was still angry when the cab dropped her off in front of Dave's house. Not wanting to accidentally take it out on him, she collected Mudgie and took him for a long walk around the neighborhood. They didn't return home until she calmed down and could be pleasant company.

Dave had seen the mood she was in when she first returned, assuming things hadn't gone well when she dropped Jack off. When it was time, he offered to drive them to Hotch's, but Emily politely declined. Jack was her responsibility and she would make sure he got home safely all on her own. During the rest of the evening, he didn't press her for any details. If she wanted him to know, she would tell him, which he was perfectly fine with. Emily and Hotch had to work this out on their own. He had already done his part by giving Hotch a piece of his mind.

Emily called it an early night, but that didn't mean she went sleep right away. For a couple of hours each night before going to bed, she looked over the data Penelope compiled on the thumb drive. It wasn't easy to sift through five years of information and not helping things was that some of it was out of date. She bought several reams of paper and printed out everything. Then she compared it with the journals she made in prison. Whenever she came up with a possible suspect, she dug deeper into their history, creating profile after profile. She may not have the sources Penelope has access to, but Emily knew her way around the Internet. The person who framed her was somewhere in the pile of papers and journals. She was positive of that and when she finally found them, there would be hell to pay.


	15. Chapter 15

Following Hotch's lead, JJ was the second on the team to reach out to Emily and it wasn't easy. She knew from chats with Penelope that Emily has a cell phone, but she was keeping the number to herself, making the technical analyst promise not to give it out unless she had permission to do so. That left her with two options. She could use Dave as a messenger or call his landline and ask for Emily. JJ chose the latter because the first made her sound like she was chickening out and letting Dave do all the dirty work. She owed it to Emily to do it the right way after pretty much being an absentee friend for the past five and a half years. She screwed up royally and wanted to make amends.

* * *

 _Behind the wheel, driving through the Virginia countryside toward the prison, JJ was a ball of mixed emotions. Her palms felt sweaty and tightly gripped against the steering wheel. She was nervous to see Emily, but she also felt obligated. Even though it seemed distance was continually growing between them, something that she knew was her fault because it wasn't like Emily could come to her, Emily was, at one point, a very good friend of hers. Now, it had been more than four months since they had any communication. They saw each other before the mess that put Emily in solitary, and four months was a long time between visits. JJ felt like she had to go see her. It ate at her more and more the longer she put it off. Finally, she couldn't deal with it anymore. The guilt of ignoring her friend and leaving her alone after the brunette had been isolated for so long made JJ decide that, no matter what she was feeling or how much she didn't want to make the trip, she had to. She owed it to Emily._

 _As JJ waited for Emily to be brought to the visitation area, she questioned why she came. A part of her wanted to see Emily, but another did not. And most days, the latter part won out. But then there were days like this when the guilt of neglecting Emily and their friendship got to her and drove her to come. She didn't like being there. She didn't like seeing Emily there._

 _The sound of the barred door clanking open had JJ hopping to her feet and plastering a smile on her face. A moment later, Emily was escorted into the room. The two women exchanged awkward hugs before taking their seats, each leaning slightly forward with their hands folded on the table. JJ immediately noticed the changes in her friend's appearance from the last time she had seen her. The three months in solitary had not been kind to Emily. The khaki inmate scrubs seemed to hang on her frame. There were dark smudges under her eyes that no amount of makeup could hide and those same eyes now held a guarded look. As they sat there Emily was surreptitiously scanning the room as if she was expecting an attack at any moment._

" _How are you doing, Emily?"_

" _I'm okay. I can't complain," she said with a noncommittal shrug, still watching the other inmates at their assigned tables. "You?"_

" _I'm good. Busy. The hours at work have been crazy of late. It seems like we're always on the road."_

" _I bet."_

" _Dave told us about the whole solitary set up. It mush have been hard."_

 _That brought Emily's full attention back to her friend. "You have no idea," she replied in a flat voice._

 _Emily was right. She had no idea what it was like to spend three months in complete isolation with only your racing thoughts for company. In the end all she could say was, "I'm sorry you had to go through that."_

 _Another shrug. "Me too, but it is what it is."_

" _I brought along some pictures of Henry. Would you like to see them?"_

 _Emily's dark brown eyes lit up and a genuine smile graced her lips. Being around as Henry grew always gave her great joy. She was his honorary aunt for so long and she loved him so much that it saddened her that she wouldn't have that anymore. Henry was and always would be important to her, just like Jack was even though she hadn't been in the BAU when he was born._

" _I would love to."_

 _JJ pulled a small stack of photographs out of her blazer's pocket. It would have been a lot easier to let Emily view them on her cell phone, but the prison banned all electronic devices from the visitation room. Instead she had Penelope print them up and that took longer than normal because the technical analyst oohed and aahed over every one, even adding some of her own. Like the proud mother she was, JJ doled them out one by one, explaining what was happening in each one._

 _Emily didn't mind the slow dispersal method. It allowed her to study them in depth, soaking in the scene and noting the changes in the blonde boy mugging for the camera. Though she was smiling, her eyes filled with sadness with each photo. She has already missed so much and she was going to miss so much more the deeper she got into her ten-year sentence. She wondered if she would recognize him when she finally got out._

 _Eventually JJ ran out so Emily went through them one more time before reluctantly handing them back. "Thanks, JJ. Henry is growing like a weed."_

" _I know and so is his hair. If I don't get it cut soon, people are going to start mistaking him for a girl," she joked._

" _You should definitely get on that," Emily agreed._

 _JJ went on about Henry and a few things going on in her life, though she kept it pretty vague. Emily could tell that this didn't feel like a normal conversation. It didn't feel like their normal friendship. It also didn't feel like JJ really wanted to be here._

 _A lull in the conversation appeared and Emily used that to get some answers. "Not that I'm not happy about the Henry updates," she started, "But I'm sure you didn't make the trip just for that. JJ, why are you really here?"_

" _What? What are you asking? I'm here to see you. Why else?"_

 _Emily sighed. "It doesn't seem like you actually want to be here."_

" _That's not true." Even to her ears, the words rang false._

 _"It is. It hurts," Emily said, looking away for a moment. "But having you here because you pity me or feel guilty hurts more."_

 _"I'm not trying to hurt you."_

 _"Not intentionally, JJ. We used to be best friends and could talk about anything. Now look at us. The only thing we could come up with was Henry."_

 _"We're still best friends"_

 _"Are we?" Emily sat back, putting some distance between them. Sort of like the gap growing between them. "If we are still the best of friends you think we are, then where the hell have you been?"_

 _JJ remained silent. She didn't have an answer to that. And if she did have one, it would be a lousy one that wouldn't satisfy Emily. Heck, it wouldn't satisfy herself._

 _"I can count on one hand the number of times you've visited since I've been incarcerated in this hellhole. "Would you like me to tell you the number?"_

 _"No. I know it's far lower that it should be." JJ had the good sense to look ashamed._

 _Emily let the anger and hurt seep into her voice and reflect in her eyes. "Damn right. The one time I could've really used your friendship was during the three months I spent in solitary. The one privilege I was allowed to keep was visitations because it was good for my mental stability." She snorted in derision. "Dave adjusted his schedule so that he could come every week, but you…you weren't anywhere to be found."_

 _They stared at each other before JJ dropped her eyes to the pile of photographs that she had been unconsciously shuffling. "I guess I haven't been as good of a friend as I should have been."_

 _"No, you haven't. You're only here today to relieve yourself of the guilt that's eating away at you for not regularly visiting me. Am I right?"_

 _"You are," JJ said softly._

 _Emily stood up. She couldn't believe what she was about to do. She was about to walk out on a visit. Visitation days were the highlight of her dreary weeks. She looked forward to them and cherished each one after it was over when she returned to her cellblock and cell. This would be the first time she left half way through one._

 _"This was fun, JJ," she said, making no effort to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "But it wasn't worth the strip search."_

 _JJ slowly rose to her feet. "You're leaving?" she asked in disbelief._

 _"I am," she agreed with a curt nod. "It was good to see you and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. But you got some soul searching to do. Once you figure out what you want to do, you know where to find me."_

* * *

JJ remembered standing there dumbfounded as Emily turned her back on her and told the nearest guard that she was ready to leave. It was the clank of the barred door closing behind her friend that snapped her out of it. With a heavy heart and bruised ego, she headed out of the prison and to her car for the long drive home. Everything Emily said was true and she deserved the verbal beat down she got.

She vowed that day to be a better friend and she was…for a while. For the next couple of months she steadily visited on the weeks that Dave didn't. But as time passed, she fell back into old habits and her visits became less frequent, coming to the point where it was months between visits. Then the guilt of abandoning Emily would become too much to bear and she would start the vicious cycle over again.

Throughout the years, Emily proved to be the bigger person. Even though she knew JJ was visiting out of guilt, she not once refused to see her. She could have easily held a grudge, but she never did. Every time Emily would greet her with a brief hug and they would spend the hour allotted to them talking. Unfortunately what they talked about showed how far apart their friendship had grown. They never talked about anything personal, sticking to generic and safe topics. Henry was the exception to the rule. Emily loved hearing about his current antics even though it saddened her that she was missing it all.

Finally JJ worked up her courage and dialed Dave's number. "Hey, Dave, it's JJ," she said when he answered. "No, we don't have a case. Actually I wanted to know if I could talk to Emily?"

He said to hold on while he checked. JJ nervously twirled a strand of hair around her finger as she waited to find out if her call was welcomed. Her face broke out in a wide smile as a familiar and missed voice came over the line.

"Hi, Emily."

* * *

Emily sat in the back of the taxi gazing out the window wondering for the umpteenth time if this was a mistake. When JJ called and asked if they could get together, she initially wanted to say no. But then she remembered that the blonde had tried to stay in contact while she was stuck in prison, even if it was a half assed attempt. It was way more than what Hotch did. He didn't grace her once with his presence. But it was the opportunity to see Henry and meet Michael that had her deciding to meet JJ halfway and see how it goes. Her encounter with Hotch at Dave's place left a sour taste in her mouth so the two settled on neutral territory; a park that JJ and the boys regularly frequented.

The taxi came to a stop in front of one of the entrances and Emily got out before she could change her mind. She took a moment to orient herself before making her way to the splash pad. As she got nearer, she could see about fifteen kids of various ages shrieking in delight as they ran around in their bathing suits getting soaked from buckets dumping water on top of them to being hit by sprays shooting up from the non-slip pad. It looked like a lot of fun.

It didn't take her long to spot JJ sitting on a lounge chair in the shade of the canopy with a stroller at her side.

"Would have loved to have one of these around when I was kid," Emily observed, sitting down at the foot of an empty lounger. "I would have been there every day."

JJ looked up and smiled. She came. She had been worried that because of their past history Emily would be a no show. "Me too. You came. I wasn't sure you would."

"I wasn't sure either."

"I wouldn't blame you after all that has gone down between us, but I really glad you did."

Emily nodded, tense and perched on the edge of the chair, ready to make her escape if things went south.

A happy gurgle emanated from the stroller. JJ looked in and beamed. "Look who's awake. Would you like to meet Michael?"

"Yes, please," Emily said, sitting a little straighter.

JJ reached into the stroller, tenderly picking up her son and held him out to Emily. She briefly hesitated and then let JJ place Michael in her arms. Emily pulled him closer to her chest, tension leaving her body as she gazed in awe at the bundle of joy.

"Oh, JJ, the pictures didn't do him justice. Michael is much more handsome in person."

"Thank you."

Michael seemed just as smitten with Emily as she was with him. Blue eyes gazed at her as he reached up to tangle pudgy fingers in her hair. Emily chuckled and he gave her a toothless smile that made her laugh louder.

"He likes you."

"The feeling is mutual," Emily said, pushing aside the regret for not being present at his birth like she had been for his older brother.

JJ breathed a mental sigh of relief. This was going better than she expected. Given the current level of chilliness in their friendship, she half expected Emily not to show up. But Emily did and she hoped the presence of Michael and Henry would heat things up and begin the thaw. Michael has done his part by being his adorable little self, now it was time to stoke the fire.

"Henry!" JJ called out. Can you come over here for a moment?"

Her oldest son shot her a look that said he really didn't want to because he was having too much fun splashing in the water. But he still did what she wanted and ran over, bare feet slapping against the non-slip surface.

The same pang of sadness she had felt when she first laid eyes on Jack and saw how much he has grown stabbed Emily right in the heart. Henry has changed so much. The last time she saw him, he was two years old and referring to himself in third person. Now he was a seven year old with his blonde wet locks plastered to his head.

Henry came to a stop, looked Emily over from top to bottom and then held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Henry," he said politely. "Do you work with my Mom?"

The world came to a stop. At least it felt like it did to Emily. All she could do was to stare in disbelief at the little boy standing with his hand out and head cocked to one side. Henry didn't recognize her. At first it hurt, but then she realized how young he was when she was incarcerated so his memories of her might be a little iffy. Maybe it just needs a little nudging.

Emily recovered her composure and shifted Michael in her arms so she could shake hands with Henry. "Hi, Henry. I'm Emily. I use to, but I don't now."

"Oh." Henry looked her over again and then turned back to JJ. "Can I go back now, Mom?"

"Uh…sure, Henry," she stammered. JJ watched him scamper off to rejoin his friends before turning back to her friend, only to see the hurt in Emily's dark brown eyes. "Emily, I'm so sor…" she started to apologize.

"Here," Emily said abruptly, thrusting Michael back at his mother. "You should take him."

Instinctively she gathered her son in her arms. "Emily…"

She cut JJ off. "It's fine. I have to go anyway. I…I have an appointment." Emily gathered up her bag and fled as fast as her legs could carry her.

Michael, startled by the sudden exchange, started crying. JJ attempted to calm him; slowing rocking him as speaking softly all the while she watched Emily's form disappear into the distance. She desperately wanted to go after her friend to apologize that what happened hadn't been intentional, but she couldn't leave Henry. By the time she corralled him and got their things together, Emily would be long gone. This wasn't how she wanted the day to go. All she wanted to do was to make amends for being a rotten friend. Instead it looks like she just made everything a whole lot worse.

* * *

Emily was crushed as she walked away. Logically, she knew it wasn't anyone's fault, but for two years, she was an important part of that little boy's life, or, at least, he was an important part of hers. She was there to see him in the hospital when he was born, there for his first birthday, and she had hoped she would continue to be there for many years. But five years away was a long time, especially with a kid. He was two when she was put away and all the memories she had of him, he no longer had of her. She was a stranger to him. Still, she was hurt that JJ didn't even try to keep him aware of who she was. She didn't expect him to remember her the way she was or have any memory of their times together, but she wasn't prepared for nothing. She thought they would have at least showed him a picture or told him a story or two.

Emily couldn't understand why they didn't even tell him about her. Was she such a horrible person? Did no one believe in her at all? She thought JJ would have cared enough to at least share something with her son about her. Maybe it was Will. There was no love lost between them. He could have been the person who kept Henry in the dark. But what did that say about JJ and their relationship? Even if Will wanted her to be out of Henry's life in every way, JJ could have fought to keep her a part of it, even if only tiny. So why didn't she? It would have been easy to just blame Will and call it a day, but Will was never her good friend. JJ was, however, and knowing that she didn't even care enough to keep her alive in her little boy's memory stung more than Henry's reaction.

* * *

Dave was getting ready to take Mudgie for a walk when Emily burst through the front door with a stormy look on her face. "How did it go, Kiddo?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she said tersely as she brushed past him and disappeared up the stairs. A minute later her bedroom door slammed close with a resounding thud.

"That bad, huh?" he asked the empty air.

Dave felt for her. So far Emily was batting a thousand in having disastrous first meeting with her former teammates. First Hotch and now JJ. He had thought this one would go better because JJ, unlike Hotch, had tried to stay in contact with Emily even though she did a piss poor job of it. Again he was at a crossroad. Should he let her be or go talk with her? The first option would give Emily some time to calm down, but she would be moody and withdrawn for the rest of the day. Dave discovered it wasn't much fun hanging out with someone who was present physically, but not mentally. It would be a long night with no one to talk to except for Mudgie and he wasn't much of a conversationalist. He was more of a snorer.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to postpone our walk for a bit. Our houseguest needs us."

Mudgie's tail drooped in disappointment, but it perked right back up when he saw where his master was headed.

He knocked on the door. "Emily, I'm coming in. I hope you're presentable because if you're not, this is going to be really awkward."

He didn't wait for an answer, throwing open the door and entering. Emily was standing at the window, arms crossed and glowering at nothing in particular. Dave joined her, standing with his thumbs hooked in his back pockets. Mudgie sat in between, sitting on one hip so he could lean against Emily's leg. Her hand came down to scratch his hand.

"I told you I don't want to talk about it."

"That you did."

"Then why are you here? Weren't you going to take Mudgie for a walk?"

"I changed my mind."

"Mudgie needs a walk."

"He can wait," Dave said. He waited. Nothing came from her, so he probed a little bit. "What happened?"

Emily turned to glare at him. "How many time are you going to make me say I don't want to talk about it?"

"As many as it takes for the answer to change."

 _God, he can be so frustrating at times._ "That's the definition of insanity, you know."

"I know."

Silence filled the room and several minutes passed before Emily sighed. "Henry had no idea who I was. I'm a complete stranger to him."

Now they have gotten to the heart of the matter. "You've been gone a long time," he reasoned.

"I've realized that."

"And he was so young when you left."

"You say it as if I had a choice," she huffed.

"I know you didn't. I just…" Dave paused to collect his thoughts. "Well I'm trying to understand what you expected to happen."

"I expected to have friends who cared about me enough to stick by me, to believe in me, and maybe share a story or two about me to their kids," she snapped.

"I'm not agreeing with what JJ did, but did she give you a reason? Tell you why?"

"Does it matter?"

"It might."

Emily turned her eyes back to the window. "I didn't give her a chance. I just handed Michael back and left."

"You ran away."

"I walked away quickly," she retorted. "And I didn't want to hear anymore of her excuses. I've heard enough of them over the years."

"I wouldn't have made the same choice," Dave started, "But there was a lot of uncertainty, especially from a kid's point of view. I know it stings, but what was she supposed to tell him?"

"The good stuff."

"And when he wanted to know where you were and why he never saw you?"

"The truth," she shot back.

"Emily," Dave said softly. "You have enough to be angry about. Despite the hurt, rationally thinking, this may not be another."

 _Maybe Dave was right,_ Emily thought. While hurtful, telling Henry about her would have just brought up a lot more questions that weren't what a young child really needed to learn about. But on the other hand, they could have told him that she had accepted a job overseas and that was why she wasn't around anymore. And if he was still insistent on talking to her, she would have gladly written him letters from prison and send them to JJ. She would have done anything to stay alive in Henry's memories and not become a piece of the forgotten past. Unfortunately it all left Emily unsure if JJ was every actually her friend, let alone her family.


	16. Chapter 16

Emily felt restless inside Dave's mansion. While she loved being with him and genuinely appreciated all the trouble he went through and all the support he offered her, she was starting to feel stifled by it. She couldn't help but feel like it was time for the next step. She needed to be on her own; at least, more independent than she was now.

For the past few weeks, Emily had dropped a few hints that she wanted to move out to the garage apartment. The renovations were done and Dave had yet to rent it out. She was ready to be his new tenant, so she tried to make him see that, too. Though, she worried it wasn't her place to just ask like it was hers for the taking. Emily just wanted to prove to him she was ready and have him offer it. She was just pushing things along with her subtle hints. They were nothing crazy, just a passing thought here and there about change or doing something that showed she needed her independence. She could handle the responsibility. She was acclimated to life on the outside again, and so, she just wanted to keep moving forward.

Finally, when she was out of hints and it appeared like Dave was being totally dense about it, Emily knew it was now or never. If she really wanted this, and she did, she had to woman up and just talk to him. So, one night, Dave had just finished up some writing and Emily thought it was her moment.

* * *

" _Uh…Miss?"_

 _Emily jerked awake at the unfamiliar voice, the book she had been reading when she had nodded off tumbled from her lap to land next to a pair of steel-toed work boots. She looked up to find the contractor, who has been working on the garage apartment for the past three months since she had been here, standing next to her lounge chair._

" _I'm sorry," he quickly apologized. "I didn't mean to startle you."_

" _That's okay," she said, a faint blush creeping up her neck. She hadn't heard him approaching and that could be a good or a bad thing. It could be a sign she had finally adjusted to being on the outside and was no longer constantly looking over her shoulder. It could also mean that she had lost her touch. "What can I do for you?"_

" _I just wanted to drop off the key to the apartment."_

" _All finished?" she asked as he dropped the key into her hand._

" _Yes. I think Mr. Rossi will be very pleased with it."_

" _I'm sure he will," Emily agreed._

" _Are…uh…are you Mrs. Rossi?"_

 _She had come to his attention a few months ago when he had spotted her relaxing and reading outside, just like she was doing today. Back then he had thought she was beautiful and his opinion hadn't changed. Well…maybe a little. She was even more so up close. Yet he didn't pursue it further because he assumed they were husband and wife. But the couple of times he had glimpsed them together, they certainly didn't act like they were married. That gave him the courage to test the waters. If she were, he would slink away and never have to worry about seeing her again since the job was finished._

 _Emily smiled and laughed. "No, definitely not Mrs. Rossi."_

 _Relief flooded through him. "Oh…okay. Good…"_

" _Good?"_

 _He was making a mess of this. "Or not, I don't know. I was just asking."_

" _Okay…" she said slowly, a little confused by the way the conversation was going. "Well, Dave and I aren't married."_

" _Dating?"_

" _Nope. Just friends."_

 _He wasn't out of the woods yet. She could still be married to someone else. "Is there a Mr…"_

" _Prentiss, Emily Prentiss," she filled in. "And no."_

" _Shame. A pretty lady like you should have a good man to treat her well." It just slipped out._

" _Thanks?"_

 _Is he flirting with me, she wondered and the more she thought about it, the more certain she was that he was. Emily took a closer look at him. He was around her age, maybe a year or two older. He was at least six foot tall, had light brown eyes and premature gray hair. He reminded her of Richard Gere in his 'Pretty Woman' days. Bet he would cut a handsome figure in a nice suit, she thought._

" _So I guess I should get going. You'll give Mr. Rossi the key?"_

" _Absolutely."_

" _Great." He took a step back and gestured at the lounge chair. "And uh…sorry about before. I didn't mean to sneak up on you."_

 _Emily waved off his apology. "Think nothing of it."_

" _I imagine I'll be thinking a lot about you," he said. Dammit! He hadn't meant to say that aloud. "I mean, it was good to meet you Ms. Prentiss."_

" _Emily, it's Emily."_

" _Halvorson, Dan Halvorson. That's me," he said, pointing at the pickup truck that said Halvorson Construction on the door and then blushed slightly when he realized what he had just said was totally unnecessary. God, he was acting like a teenager asking his very first girl out on a date._

 _A smile tugged at Emily's lips. "I can see that."_

" _Well, then good to meet you pretty Emily," he amended, a kind smile on his face._

" _Same."_

" _Have a nice day." He actually tipped his baseball cap at her and then beat a hasty retreat to his truck._

 _He was flirting with her, right? That was the question on Emily's mind as she watched Dan Halvorson drive away. She didn't know whether to be touched that he even gave her a second look, it had been a while since she got hit on by someone of the opposite sex, or if she should feel sorry for him because he had fumbled through it like a schoolboy and had no idea who he was taking an interest in. She decided she would go with flattered, and she really was. Dan seemed like a genuinely nice guy and, if this were just five years earlier, she probably would have picked up on the flirting right away and gave it back in spades, jumping right in. But now she had other things to worry about. Dating was even harder now and it had never been a cakewalk for her. There were so many doubts swirling about her head. Despite being innocent, in the eyes of the law she was a convicted felon and out on parole. People generally weren't thrilled when their potential love interest turns out to be a criminal. And Emily was hesitant to put herself in a situation where she could get hurt, emotionally, by getting involved with someone. The truth was, she couldn't deny the change in her. Even if she somehow proved she was innocent, there was still that five-year period she spent behind bars. There was no changing that and she was changed because of it._

" _Damn," she swore softly. "Dating just got a whole lot harder. Right, Mudgie?" Emily looked down at the dog that had been lying on the other side of the lounge chair the entire time. Mudgie didn't acknowledge her because he was off in dreamland._

 _Emily nudged the sleeping dog with her foot. Mudgie woke up with a snort and gazed up with sleepy eyes. "Some watchdog you are," she softly scolded. "I could have been murdered and the house robbed and you would've slept through the whole thing."_

 _Mudgie simply thumped his tail on the lanai. She chuckled at his utter lack of concern about her safety and stood up, intending to drop the key off in Dave's office. But she paused, gazing at the shiny object in her hand. Then she slowly turned to stare contemplatively at the garage and the apartment above it. She had been dying to know what was going on in there, but she hadn't wanted to do it while the workers were swarming around the place. Now she had the perfect opportunity to do so. The remodel was done, the workers gone and she was home alone. Dave and the team were in Witchita, Kansas. Before she could have second thoughts, Emily hurried across the lawn with Mudgie bringing up the rear._

 _On the small porch Emily hesitated and peeked through the window next to the door before inserting the key in the lock. She looked around to make sure she wasn't be observed, which was silly since there was no one around, and then opened the door and slipping in. Mudgie squeezed through the space as she was closing it. Emily found herself in a small entryway. To her left was a door to the garage proper, the stairs on her right, and directly in front of her a closet for boots and coats built under the staircase. As she ascended, she looked up to see it was open all the way to the ceiling. Mudgie, excited about exploring a new place, bounded up the steps like a puppy._

 _Mudgie was waiting for her when she reached the top of the stairs. Emily took a look around and liked what she saw. The main part of the apartment was an open layout with the living room at the front, the dining room at the back and the kitchen with a island was tucked in the space behind the stairs. It all felt more open because there weren't any walls separating the living space from the staircase. Instead there were two open railings along the living room and kitchen. The walls were sonic silver with white trim and the floors were hardwood. Three door high windows in the front and three regular sized ones in the back, let in plenty of natural light. So did the glass door that opened on to the deck the spanned the front of the garage. Emily especially loved the kitchen with its dark cherry cabinets, black marble counter tops and the smudge free stainless steel appliances. She spent some time exploring them._

 _Emily ran her hand one more time over the smooth counter top of the island before heading off to check out the rest of the apartment. The hardwood floors and white trim continued into the short hallway leading her to believe both had been carried on to the other rooms. Upon entering there was one door on the left, two on the right and one in front of her. The left hand door opened into a room with two tall windows overlooking the deck. Here the walls were citrus punch, a mellow neutral orange shade. It was perfect for a second bedroom or a home office. Emily personally liked the idea of an office; you could always get a sofa that converted into a bed for any overnight guests. Stepping across the hall, the first door revealed a rather spacious laundry room with full size washer and dryer and plenty of extra space for cleaning supplies._

" _Nice, very nice so far," Emily commented to Mudgie as he sniffed around in one corner. She waited for him to finish before continuing on her tour. Emily swung open the next door and stopped short. "Wow!"_

 _She stepped into a good size bathroom painted in ash blue with a double sink vanity, toilet, whirlpool tub and a walk in shower. What caught her eye wasn't the small window over the john, but the large one even with the tub so you could gaze out as you soaked. Emily also discovered that the floor was heated. No more cold tiles when you stepped out of the shower. This she could get use to very quickly. There was a pocket door by the vanity that she assumed led to a linen closet so Emily was pleasantly surprised to find herself in the master bedroom. It was nice that it had its own entrance to the bathroom so you didn't have to go out into the hallway in the middle of the night. The walls were dusty lilac and it had one tall window in the front and a regular one on the side. But what she liked most about the room was that it had a door to the deck and that it had a walk in closet, any woman's dream._

 _After a quick detour to check out the view from the deck, Emily returned to the main part of the apartment. Standing in the middle of the open area, she slowly turned around to get another good look at the place. For what started out as a mess, it really came together beautifully. She could easily see herself living there. She envisioned it furnished, the place coming alive in her head, picturing all the things she could do there. She could have Dave over for dinner, cooking for him in a kitchen she didn't feel like a guest instead of the other way around. Then they could sit down on the couch to watch an old movie with a glass of wine and some popcorn. Well, Dave could have the wine and she a non-alcoholic beverage until she was off of parole. It would be nice to do that with him._

 _Other possibilities flirted through her head. She could entertain and have friends over. She could relax after a long day in the master bath, soaking in the tub with a pool of bubbles around her and a good book to soothe her mind. Maybe she could finally get that cat she had always wanted. Emily had planned on getting one before prison happened. Here there would be plenty of space in the laundry room for a litter box. Names for her possible feline companion were coming to her. A cat would have plenty of room, and so would she. The thoughts brought a warm smile to her face._

 _The smile faded. It was a really nice dream. But, she realized, that was all it was in the end. While it started to feel like reality in her mind, the place wasn't hers. She could picture it all she wanted, but the apartment belonged to Dave. Any and all designs were his choice. Any tenants were his choice. She didn't get any choice. He'd probably rent it out, she figured, a discontented feeling overtaking her. It felt good to think of her life progressing, moving in here and living on her own in some ways. She really did want that._

* * *

Emily leaned against the doorframe of Dave's office. "Hey Dave."

He turned from the laptop and smiled. "Hey, Em. What are you up to?"

"I just let Mudgie out into the yard. Still writing?"

"Nope. Think I'm done for the night."

She took the cue and edged closer. "Then you have a minute?"

"For you, always. I was thinking of making some tea. Want some?"

"That would be great."

The two headed into the kitchen together, Emily formulating what she wanted to say in her head as Dave filled the kettle and set it on the stove. Mudgie started scratching at the back door while they waited and, after letting him in, Emily knew she couldn't prolong things any longer.

"I think he likes having you here," Dave observed as they sat down at the table with their cups of tea.

"I like being here too…"

"But?"

He had sensed this coming, but wasn't willing to bring it up himself. Dave wanted her to come to him. If she was ready, then she could do that. When he had decided to renovate the garage apartment, the possibility of Emily using it hadn't occurred to him. At the time she was still in prison serving her ten-year sentence and parole wasn't a glimmer in anyone's mind. A water pipe had burst and had flooded the entire apartment, turning the garage below into an indoor version of Niagara Falls. Both places were a mess after two days of constant water since he had been out of town at the time and his housekeeper had no reason to go back there. It was the lawn service that had spotted the problem and got the water shut off. But after Emily had been granted parole and had been living with him for a month, Dave had realized the apartment would be the perfect stepping stone toward her total independence so he had changed the plans and color scheme to cater to her likes. Then he had to sit back and wait for this day to come.

Emily fiddled with the cup. "But I feel like… Like I'm living in your house."

"You are living in my house, Emily," he pointed out with a chuckle.

She shot him a slightly dirty look. He was making it harder for her. "I know, and it's been great, but I don't feel like it's right anymore."

"This is starting to feel like a break up… And it's not going well."

"I know," Emily agreed with a sigh. "I've felt welcome here, Dave, but I feel stagnant. I'm not sure I'm ready to be completely on my own and, well I'm not sure I'm financially stable enough for that kind of commitment…"

"But you're looking for something." _Come on, Emily, you can do this_ , he silently cheered.

"Yes. I'm ready to be on my own as much as I possibly can. I can't rely on you as much as I do anymore. It's not fair to you for me to be using you and looking for so much support."

"Emily… I don't want you to feel like you're using me. I'm your friend and I want to help you."

"And I appreciate that, but you've done so much. You're a big reason why I can be so independent and take the next step. Which is why even asking for this is hard."

"What exactly are you asking?"

Emily took a deep breath and stepped off the cliff. "I'd like to move into your apartment above the garage. I know the renovations have been finished for some time, but you wanted to keep an eye on me."

 _That's my girl. You did it._ "I have not," he weakly protested. She was right about that.

"You have, and that's okay," she said with a soft chuckle. "I would have done the same thing. I needed a little looking after everything whether I was willing to admit that or not, but I think I'm doing okay now."

"You are."

She nodded her thanks. "I want to try my hand at a little more… alone time and space. So, I'm asking if I can move there. I'd pay rent, of course. I probably can't afford as much as it's worth, but I can offer something. It will be something we can discuss. I want to be fair."

"You don't have to pay rent, Emily."

"Yes I do. I need things to be normal. In normal life, I'd pay rent and buy my own groceries. I wouldn't need my very good, supportive friend, to take care of me and worry over me all the time."

"I'll still worry," he told her.

"I know, but, if you say yes, I'll still be close by. Not much will change. We'll both just have a little more space."

* * *

Of course Dave said yes. They discussed how much the rent would be, eventually settling on an amount that wouldn't take a big chunk out of her monthly income or make Emily feel like she was taking advantage of their friendship. There was one area of contention that took a little while to resolve. Dave was planning on renting the garage apartment to her fully furnished while Emily wanted to buy everything herself. On her current salary she couldn't afford to buy everything at once, but she could get the basic necessities first like a couch, bed, tv, cookware and stools for the island so she had somewhere to sit and eat. The rest she could pick up at her leisure. Dave thought it would take too much time. In the end they compromised. Dave did the paying and Emily did the picking out.

Dave also thought he could avoid the torturous process of shopping. In the past when he wanted to redecorate, he turned his interior designer loose on the project, but not this time. Emily and Penelope insisted he come along and bring his nice shiny credit card that needed a good workout. He did have a good time, even though he did stand around most of the time looking like a dutiful husband holding his wife…wives purses and packages while they continued shopping. Emily had a good eye, picking out quality items at reasonable prices that didn't make his wallet ache. She was also able to rein in Penelope's desire for the outrageous and exorbitantly priced merchandise. When needed, he swiped his card, signed on the dotted line and arranged delivery.

Emily was like a child in a candy store, she couldn't wait to move in, but chafed at the delay caused by waiting for the delivery of the furniture. Once everything was unpacked and put in its proper place, she almost literally skipped across the lawn, with Mudgie nipping at her heels. She almost slugged Dave when he made a big production about turning the keys over to her, but once she wrapped her fingers around it and felt it's coolness against her palm, Emily knew she was officially on her own. Boy did it feel good. The next night she hosted her first party, a house warming party, serving a dinner made in her own kitchen by her own hands to Dave and Penelope. The conversation was fun and free flowing until it took a turn in a direction Emily hadn't anticipated.

Dave glanced at her over the top of his after dinner coffee. "So, Emily," he drawled, "I thought for sure you would invite Dan over tonight to help celebrate."

Penelope's ears perked up. She loved gossip, especially when it wasn't about her. "Dan? Who's Dan?"

"Nobody," Emily said quickly, hoping to quash the conversation about her love life before it started. No such luck.

"Dan Halvorson. He's the contractor who remodeled this place and flirted with Emily."

"Oh la, la. Has Emily gotten herself a gentleman caller?"

Emily made a sour face. "No."

"No?" Dave echoed. "Well, that's news to me. He sure seemed interested in you."

"I knew it was a mistake mentioning it to you," Emily muttered crossly.

"But you did anyways."

"And I'm going to be regretting it for the rest of my life."

Penelope let her eyes grow wide. "So tell me all about your hunk of burning love. Is he cute? How many dates have you gone on? Have you kissed? Does he have a brother?"

Dave smirked as Emily scowled at her friend. "Yes. None. No. I have no clue."

"Come on. Don't hold back on me," she pressed. "What's he like?"

"Pen, I'm not holding back. There's nothing to tell."

"But you said he was cute."

"Yeah," Emily agreed in exasperation. "And that's true of a lot of guys. That doesn't mean that I want to date them or they want to date me."

"Well, now, that's just selling yourself short."

"No, I'm not. I'm being realistic."

"Yes, you are. I know you're a little rusty when it comes to dating, but if he's as hot—"

"I never said he was hot."

Penelope turned to Dave. You've seen him. Is this Dan a hottie?"

Dave looked back and forth between the two women, one eagerly waiting his answer and the other glaring daggers at him. "I'm not an expert on what makes a man hot, but I would say he is," he finally said with a shrug.

The technical analyst flashed Emily a triumphant smile. "Then you definitely need to ask him out."

"It's not that simple, Pen."

"But it can be."

"No."

"Why can't it be?"

"It just can't," Emily said adamantly. "Nothing is just that simple anymore."

Dave and Penelope realized their good-natured teasing had gone on a little too long. Emily was uncomfortable, even to the point where she was on the verge of getting angry. They didn't want her first party to end on a sour note so they backed down and switched to a safer topic for which Emily was very grateful. But that didn't mean they were giving up. It just meant they would have to be sneakier about it. Dating was a natural progression in Emily's attempt to recover control of her life. Come hell or high water, the two were going to get Emily and Dan on their first date, even if she kills them afterwards.

* * *

What Emily liked the most about finally having a place of her own was its total privacy. For five and a half long years she had none, sharing a cell with another inmate and being under constant observation by the guards. At Dave's, he gave her all the privacy she wanted, but she felt she never fully had it. Even though she knew deep down in her heart that he would never do it, Emily was worried that Dave or the housekeeper would enter her bedroom unannounced and see things she didn't want them to be privy to.

Now she didn't have to worry. Now she could work on her case without interference. For a long time she wanted to lay it all out so she could study it from every angle, but she was afraid that Dave would see it and disapprove of her effort. So every night she gathered it all up and put it away in the desk until the next evening. Not wanting to mar the walls of her study with tape or thumbtacks, Emily found several pieces of plywood left over from the remodel in the garage and hauled them up to the apartment. They became her evidence and suspect boards that she could easily add to and study into the wee hours of night. It was a start and now with the ability to see the big picture, she was confident she was on the verge of breaking it wide open.


	17. Chapter 17

Emily sat on the floor in the middle of her study staring at her evidence and suspect boards. It wasn't going well. She thought getting it all laid out so she could see it all at one time would reveal the vital clue that would break the case wide open. It didn't. She was still right where she was when she put it all up two weeks ago, absolutely nowhere and that frustrated her no end. This wasn't working and so wasn't reconnecting with the team. Of course things were fine with Dave and Penelope. Hotch was making minimal progress through Jack. With JJ, everything seemed forced, that she often responded to questions with one or two words and sometimes things JJ said just rubbed her the wrong way. Reid was still missing in action and then there was Derek.

* * *

 _Derek ended up at Dave's after much debate, finally realizing he needed to talk to Emily. It had been a long time since they had any contact. He stood there staring out the French doors at her kneeling at the lawn's edge rubbing Mudgie's grayed head. He was looking at the woman like he didn't even know her, and, in many ways, he didn't anymore. He had kept his distance over the years, separating himself from her and their friendship. After she had killed two people, he just didn't see her as the same person he called his friend and partner._

 _During the trial, he wanted to be there for Emily, but she had made it hard. If she had just copped to her actions and taken responsibility, he could have reconciled with her, knowing her actions were a mistake and she owned them. Maybe learned from them. He could have found a way to get past things, but that wasn't the case. Emily kept insisting that she was innocent. The trial was grueling. Seeing his friend on the defendant's side of the table, her face expressionless as the prosecution laid out the evidence against her and listening to the victims' impact statements during the sentencing hearing made him wonder what happened to her. When did she become the ghost of a person he thought he knew?_

 _Hearing Emily's statement as she stood before the judge wearing jail scrubs, hands cuffed to her waist and in leg irons, were the final nail in the coffin. She couldn't just admit what she had done and repented. For that, he couldn't forgive her. That wasn't who she was and he didn't like the new version of her. So what was left for them? Until or unless she could face what she had done, he couldn't see them having a relationship anymore. And when the judge sentenced her to ten years in prison, he thought he was through with her, but there he was, and there she was, five years after the fact and sharing the same breathing space. He knew he would have to face her eventually._

 _Derek took a breath and stepped through the door, eventually stopping a short distance from her. "Hey."_

 _Emily's hand froze in mid-stroke at the voice she hadn't heard in almost six years. Her eyes slowly came up to study the man she had once considered her best friend. He still looked the same though a bit more buffer, but his eyes told the whole story. They were the eyes of a stranger, not the eyes of a man who was glad to see an old friend after a long time._

 _She repressed a disappointed sigh and went back to petting Mudgie. "If you're looking for Dave, you just missed him. He'll be back in a couple of hours."_

" _I know. I ran into him on his way out. He told me where I could find you."_

" _Oh."_

 _A heavy silence settled over them. Derek watched her pet Mudgie. Neither knew what to say to each other, but they knew one of them had to take the lead at some point. They couldn't remain this way indefinitely. Sooner or later it was bound to rain._

 _Derek was the first to break the oppressive silence. "How are you doing, Emily?"_

" _I'm good. You?"_

" _Good."_

" _Good," she repeated with a small nod. Get the small talk out of the way. Now on to the serious crap, she thought as thunder rumbled in the distance. Definitely going to rain. She gave Mudgie one more pat and then stood up. "Let's sit."_

 _When he nodded in agreement, Emily led him over to the covered part of the lanai and gestured for him to have a seat at the table. She sat down opposite of him with Mudgie lying down under the table with his head on her feet. Emily picked up the glass with a dark liquid in it and took a sip, the ice cubes clinking off the sides. Derek frowned in disapproval._

 _Emily scowled at his righteous attitude. "It's just a Coke, Morgan. Not booze."_

" _Okay," he responded, a hint of skepticism echoing in his voice._

" _You don't believe me?" She set the glass down and pushed it toward him. "Taste it."_

" _Nah." He shook his head, though he was tempted._

" _Just do it. Let's get this out of the way."_

" _I'm fine."_

" _Do it."_

 _Derek sighed and picked up the glass. He took a sip and waited for the burn of the alcohol to course down his throat. Nothing happened. It was what she said it was._

" _Satisfied?" she asked with a smirk, retrieving her glass._

 _He had the good sense to look abashed. "Yes."_

 _Emily could have let it go right there, but he had abandoned her five years ago. "Were you expecting to find me drunk off my ass?"_

" _No!" he said with an indignant snort, though part of him had been expecting it._

" _Glad that I didn't disappoint you." She mock saluted him with the glass and downed the rest of its contents._

 _But she had. In his mind, she disappointed him all those years ago and every day since. "So you're not drinking right now. That's great."_

" _I'm not a drunk, Morgan."_

" _You know the saying: once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. That doesn't just stop."_

 _Emily bristled. "Yes it does when you're not an alcoholic in the first place."_

" _Still in denial I see," he shot back. "Didn't you learn anything from the AA meetings? I assume you were required to attend them in prison."_

" _Every week for five fucking years."_

" _I see they did you a world of good."_

 _With a thundering crash the heavens opened up and the rain came down in torrential waves. Emily watched it fall for a minute before answering. "You know they did," she said honestly. "They taught me that there are a lot of struggling people who battled and were lost to their addictions, but I wasn't one of them."_

 _Derek shook his head sadly. She was in big time denial. "Prentiss, how can you say that? You killed two people."_

" _I didn't kill anyone!" she yelled, slamming her hand down on the table._

 _Mudgie jumped to his feet at the sound. Letting out a fretful whine, he nudged Emily's clenched fist with his nose. She relaxed it and buried her fingers in his fur though the rest of her body was seething in anger._

" _Why can't you take responsibility for what you've done? You went to prison for it. Evidence showed you did it. Why can't you just see it?" Frustrated and angry, Derek got to his feet and stomped over to the edge of the lanai where he stood with his back to her, arms crossed and jaw clenched as he stared out into the rain._

 _Emily was just as angry and hurt by his accusations. "There's nothing to see. I didn't do it." The anger burned in her eyes. "I wasn't, nor have I ever been a drunk and I'm not stupid enough to get behind the wheel when I've been drinking."_

" _And yet you did." He paused to collect his thoughts. "I thought…when I heard you were being released and that your statement at the parole hearing was a big part of it, I thought maybe you finally got it. You were finally ready to face what you did and move forward. But you're not ready. You're nowhere near ready."_

" _You think my parole should have been denied," she accused him._

 _He spun around. "I never said that," he denied. Maybe not to her, but he had said it to the team._

 _Emily rose and went to stand nose to nose with him. "Maybe not out loud, but you sure as hell just implied it. Admit it. You think I should still be rotting away in prison for another five years."_

 _Derek didn't answer, but the look on his face told her the truth. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Why are you even here, Morgan, if you still think I should be locked up?"_

" _Because I hoped you were still the woman I once thought you was. I hoped you were dealing with what happened. And now I see you're not. You're not the same Emily. Maybe I didn't know the real you at all."_

 _Mudgie followed her anxiously nudged and licked her hand. He didn't like when his people got angry and raised their voices and tried to distract her by getting her to pet him. Emily ignored him._

" _I'm still that woman and I'm dealing with what happened. If you haven't noticed, I've lost everything. I lost my job, my family and friends, my personal belongings and five years of my life. I lost everything important to me because someone framed me for murder. I was reduced to living in Dave's guest room for months and depending on his charity until I get back on my feet."_

" _And those poor people lost their family because of you. Prentiss, roaming free without even the slightest guilt isn't right."_

 _Emily wrapped her arms around her body. "I feel horrible about what happened to those poor people and their family. I want to find who did it and get justice for them. But I wasn't the person who hurt them. Whatever you may think, I didn't take their family from them."_

" _The evidence says you did."_

" _You know very well that evidence can lie," Emily huffed in annoyance. "It once told us you murdered a teenage boy." As angry as she was, she took no pleasure in watching her barb sink in._

 _The barb stung, but their situations were completely different. His had been circumstantial and twisted to fit theory. The evidence against Emily had been rock solid and nobody could deny she had done it._

" _I think you're the one that changed," she continued._

" _How? How have I changed?" Derek asked in disbelief._

" _You used to be a man who was always there for his friends and family, no matter what."_

" _I still am."_

 _Emily shook her head. "But the first chance you got, you turned your back on me. You saw some evidence and didn't even question it. I thought I knew you. I loved you like my brother, and now look at us. I don't see any of the kind, loving man I was once so proud to call my friend."_

 _Her last comment hung over the two former friends like a black, gloomy cloud. It took a moment for it to sink in that there was nothing left to say._

" _Coming here was a mistake," he admitted._

" _I think it was," Emily agreed. "I'm sure you can see yourself out."_

" _I can," he said and headed for the door. There he turned to face her. "Goodbye, Prentiss."_

 _Emily didn't say anything, instead turning her back to him and gazing blindly out over the rain soaked yard. Derek stared at her back for a second before sighing and walking away, washing his hands of her._

* * *

"Meow!"

Emily looked down at the black cat that climbed into her lap and smiled. Not all things were bad. She finally got the cat she had been wanting for a long time. After clearing it with Dave, she took a taxi to the nearest shelter and came home with this handsome fellow she dubbed Sergio. It didn't take him long to settle in and make the apartment his little kingdom. The only one who wasn't too keen on the new addition was Mudgie. He also considered Emily's apartment part of his territory, splitting his time between both places. After a few rough encounters, they adjusted to each other's presence, often taking naps together. Since they were both the same color, it was difficult to distinguish one from the other, often looking like a big pile of black fur.

Work was also going well. She was no longer on probation, but a full member of the law firm. Now Emily was sort of a Jack-of-all-trades. She was willing to try anything to help especially when Melinda returned from maternity leave. In addition to her regular duties as a record clerk, she acted as a translator for the clients who couldn't speak English. But what made Emily the happiest was that on occasion she was able to take advantage of her years as a profiler, skills she thought she never would get to use again.

It all came about when she accidentally dropped the file of an appeal Anders was working on. The man was convicted of killing his girlfriend. As she was putting it back together, she noticed it sounded like a killer that had been caught in another state she had read about on the Internet while doing her research on her own case. Urged on by the profiler in her, Emily dug deeper and found there was a gap in the killer's timeline, which coincided with the day the girlfriend was murdered. At first Anders was skeptical until Emily pointed out that the victim had recently moved from the city where the serial killer operated. He must have followed her here, killed her and went back home, leaving behind the perfect patsy. A patsy like she was. The appeal was successful and left Emily with the satisfaction that she helped clear the name of someone wrongfully accused. If she could do it for a complete stranger, then one day she could do it for herself.

Even her relationship with her parole officer was better. Holland was still the asshole from hell, but he was no longer riding her as hard. It wasn't like he suddenly developed a soft spot for her. It was because Emily was a model parolee, following her parole to the letter even though she hated it. She was never late or missed their scheduled meetings. She attended AA on a weekly basis. She was still gainfully employed. What annoyed him the most was that she passed each mandatory drug and alcohol test with flying colors and when he conducted surprised inspections of her room at Dave's and her new apartment, making her stand outside the door like she had to do in prison, he couldn't find one bit of contraband, not even a bottle of cooking sherry. Emily took perverse pleasure that she was making Holland's life as miserable as he was making hers.

"Emily? Are you here?" Dave called out from the vicinity of the living room.

"Shit!" Emily swore, jumping to her feet and unceremoniously dumping Sergio onto the floor. "I'll be right with you, Dave," this time silently cursing that she hadn't heard the doorbell because she had been too busy traipsing down memory lane.

"I was hoping Mudgie was over here. I couldn't find him in any of normal haunts."

Emily reached the doorway of her study at the same time he did, arranging her body in a way she hoped blocked his view of the room. She wasn't ready or prepared for him to see what she was working on.

"He's out sunbathing on the deck," she said quickly. "Let's go get him." She tried to steer him into a different direction without actually shoving him into the hallway.

Dave peered over her shoulder. "Did you get some more artwork?" he asked in curiosity. "Mind if I take a look? You know I like art."

"Dave..." she tried to stop him as he squeezed past her and into the study.

It wasn't what he was expecting at all. Five large pieces of plywood were propped against the furniture or the walls, all covered by photos and notes. If he didn't know better, they looked like evidence boards. Dave slowly turned in a circle as he studied them. Some faces he recognized from previous cases, the others were unfamiliar to him. Maybe they were from cases she worked on in St. Louis and Chicago before she joined the BAU.

"Emily? What is all of this?"

Emily sighed, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorjamb. "It's five and a half years of theories."

"You've been working on your case?" he asked, not sure how he should react.

"Yes," she confirmed, taking great care not to mention Penelope's involvement. She didn't want to get the technical analyst in trouble for helping her while on government time.

"For how long?" Dave asked though he suspected he knew the answer.

Emily let her gaze drift over the boards. "Since the day I was convicted. I had to do something to keep my mind occupied between your visits, my work detail and getting attacked by my fellow inmates." She hadn't meant or it to come out so bitter sounding, but it did and she wasn't about to take in back.

"That's a long time."

"It's even longer on the inside."

"I can believe that." He looked over the boards again, paying more attention to the ones that had faces he didn't recognize. "Who is Ian Doyle?" he asked, randomly picking a name.

She twitched at the name, but quickly schooled her expression so that he would miss it. Nobody knew, not even Hotch, that the ten years she said she spent in the Midwest was a fabrication concocted by the higher up to hide the fact she once worked for the CIA and had been loaned out to an Interpol task force to profile terrorists. It was one of her biggest secrets that she planned never to see the light of day.

"Just a minor gun runner I helped put away," she said with a dismissive shrug while sticking as close to the truth as possible so he wouldn't detect her deception.

Dave nodded and gestured to two of the boards. "These are from your time before the BAU?"

"They are."

"Find anything of interest?"

She shook her head. "Nothing yet," she admitted, not bothering to keep the frustration and disappointment out of her voice.

"Maybe I can help. I can't use FBI resources, but if we can find something credible, I can make a case for really looking into it on the books."

Emily stared at him, surprised by his offer. Even though he's been her best supporter, he still believed she was guilty of the crime and had to do the time. He was humoring her. "But you think I'm wasting my time." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.

Dave had been honest with her from the get go and he wasn't going to stop now. "I do. But I also think that if it is something you need to do, you have to do it and I'll have to accept that. I offered to help because I know it is something you adamantly believe in."

"Even if it's wrong?"

"Even if it's wrong."

She took a moment to consider his words and sentiment before answering. "Dave, I thank you for the offer and your honesty, but I'm going to have to turn you down…for now. You're right. I don't believe…I know I was framed. Just like I know nobody, with the exception of Penelope, believes me. I'm guilty in everyone's eyes and for that reason I need to do this on my own."

"Fair enough," he conceded, relieved he didn't have to watch her go to great lengths to deny her culpability in those people's deaths. It was bad enough that he already knew it. "But if by some chance you do find something that will prove all of us wrong, you'll let me know?"

"I will," she promised.

Emily offered him a small, genuine smile. Despite his misgivings, she knew he would actually help if he could, and that was all she really wanted. With that uncomfortable talk out of the way, Emily had the chance to really give him a once over. Her smile grew wider as she let out a low, appreciative whistle.

"You're looking extra handsome today, Dave."

"Yeah," he agreed, brushing imaginary lint off his sleeve.

"Another hot date with Carolyn?" Emily asked.

"Aren't they always?" he smirked.

She laughed and the remaining tension in the room evaporated. "Tell Carolyn I said hi."

"Why don't you come along? She'll love to meet you."

Emily hesitated. "Are you sure? You know the saying that two is company, three's a crowd."

"I'm positive. I've got the picnic basket all packed. It's time you two meet."

"I'm honored." Emily glanced down at her clothes. "Let me change into something nicer. Ratty jeans and a sweatshirt just won't do."

"No problem. Take your time."

As she hurried off to change, Dave's smile faded as he turned back to the evidence boards. Emily had put in a lot of work to assemble all of this and put it up in some logical order, almost to the point of being an obsession. In his head he knew she had to do this to give herself some peace of mind, but his heart ached for the crushing disappointment she would eventually feel. It was simply impossible to prove something happen when it never did.


	18. Chapter 18

" _Earth to Dave. Come in, Dave." Emily leaned across the table to wave a hand in front of his face. She was in one of her chatty moods and had been talking nonstop for the past ten minutes before realizing her friend wasn't mentally with her._

 _Dave blinked. "Huh? What?" he stammered, embarrassment flirting across his face for getting caught woolgathering._

" _You zoned out on me which wasn't very nice given my present situation." She gestured at the visitation room of the prison where she was well into the first year of her ten-year sentence._

 _He heard the humor in her voice and saw it dancing in her eyes, a rare occurrence now, and yet felt the need to apologize. "Sorry about that Emily. I was thinking about something."_

" _Obviously," she said with a chuckle. "Do you want to talk about it? It'll be a nice change of pace to talk about someone else's troubles besides my own."_

 _The corner of his mouth curled into a smile. She did have a point. It might be nice to have a woman's point of view on this. Of the three women on the team, even though Emily was in prison Dave still considered her a member, she was the most level headed and offered advice only after thoughtful consideration. Penelope would blow it way out of proportion and JJ was too timid to offer her opinion given their age difference and his experience._

 _Dave rested his folded hands on the table and leaned forward, Emily mimicking him. "I had breakfast with Carolyn a few days ago."_

 _Carolyn? Why does that name sound familiar? Emily dug into her memory for clues and eventually pulled out that Carolyn was one of his many ex-wives. Of course she had to tease him about it, enjoying being on the receiving end of some juicy gossip for a change. This was one of the times she sorely missed the Quantico grapevine._

" _Carolyn?" she repeated with feigned puzzlement. "Was she wife number four or five?"_

 _He gave her one of his patented scowls. "Cute, Prentiss, very cute. I'm not the only person in the world to have been married three times."_

" _Sorry," she apologized with an unrepentant smile. "Which one was she?"_

" _Carolyn was the first."_

" _Hmm," she said with a wise nod._

 _He frowned. "Try using your words, Emily. Hmm doesn't tell me much."_

" _Sorry. There's always something special with the first in anything. What do you think is going on?"_

" _I think she's testing the waters to see if the old spark that drew us together is there."_

 _This was definitely getting juicy and, for once, she was the first to hear it. "Is it?"_

" _I think so. At least on my side," he hastily added. "I'm having her over for dinner tonight."_

 _Sadness came to her eyes. "We don't often get second chances in life, Dave. If you want my humble opinion, I say take the plunge and see where it goes."_

 _Dave took a moment to consider her words and then broke into a relieved smile. "I'll do it. You're a wise woman, Emily Prentiss."_

 _She dismissed the compliment with a wave of her hand. "No I'm not. I'm just an inmate with too much time on her hands to think about missed opportunities and second chances."_

 _He remained silent. Since being incarcerated, Emily's demeanor could change at the drop of a hat. A moment ago she was chatting his ear off and now she was showing signs of withdrawing into herself and remaining quiet for the rest of the visit. Well, he wasn't going to sit around and let it happen._

" _I promise to tell you how it all went down in detail on my next visit."_

 _A ghost of a smile returned to her lips. "I'm going to hold you to it, old man. You better double up on your vitamins."_

* * *

 _The two weeks between visits was agonizing for Emily. All she could think about was Dave's dinner date with his ex-wife and hoped it went well. The man could use some happiness in his life. He needed a woman who could make his laugh and make him forget the darkness he regularly encountered at work. Hell…she could use someone like that in her life right now, but that wasn't going to happen any time soon. She was going to have to wait at least ten years before having a shot at true happiness._

 _As the days crawled by, her anticipation grew almost to the point where she couldn't stay still. Her constant tossing and turning at night had her cellmate contemplating ways of getting sent to solitary confinement or even better Emily, for several days of uninterrupted sleep. A few days before his arrival, Emily started praying that she wouldn't receive an email from Dave postponing his visit due to a case. If he did, she wouldn't be held responsible for her actions and she would kill him. Luckily it didn't happen and Emily didn't have to worry about getting twenty to thirty years tacked on to her sentence for involuntary manslaughter._

 _When Dave greeted her, he started in on the idle chitchat, the normal things he spoke about to fill her in on what was happening outside the prison walls. Normally she was happy with that, but he wasn't getting to the juicy parts fast enough._

" _So? Are you going to tell me how it went?" she asked, almost bouncing out of her seat and pouncing on him._

 _He stopped in mid-sentence and frowned at her. "How what went?"_

 _Emily studied his face intently, trying to determine if he knew exactly what she meant and was just stringing her along for the fun of it. If he was, it wasn't very nice of him. But all she saw was genuine confusion mixed with distraction. "You know," she prompted in frustration. "You…Carolyn…dinner."_

" _Oh…that. It was fine."_

" _That's it? Just fine?" she said, bewildered. She studied him again and this time she detected a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I don't think so. Want to tell me what happened?"_

" _I don't want to bother you."_

" _Please bother me. I want to help you if I can."_

 _Dave sighed, lacing his fingers and tapping his thumbs against each other. "It wasn't what I thought it was. Carolyn has ALS."_

 _Emily rocked back on her metal stool in shock. That was the last thing she expected to hear. She was so sure he was going to say that he had misread the signals and that Carolyn wanted to remain friends, but not this. ALS was a horrible disease with no cure. Saying 'I'm sorry' didn't feel appropriate, so after glancing around to see where the guards were, she reached across the table and gave his hands a comforting squeeze while saying, "What do you need, Dave?"_

 _He gratefully returned the squeeze and then pulled his hands back so she wouldn't get in trouble with the guards patrolling the visitation room. "It's not what I need, Emily, but what Carolyn needs. The disease is progressing quickly and she wanted me to help her commit suicide."_

 _Talk about putting him in a difficult position. It was one of those decisions that couldn't be made lightly. It was going to take a lot of soul searching and whatever decision he comes to was going to stay with him for the rest of his life. "What are you going to do?"_

" _I managed to convince her not to do it and to move in with me."_

 _Relief swept through Emily. It wasn't the perfect solution, but it was better than taking your own life. Many don't realize the damage their suicide does to those still living. This way the two can spend and enjoy what time Carolyn has left together. The road ahead was going to be rough, but she has no doubt that her dear friend will step up and take excellent care of his ex-wife._

" _Carolyn doesn't want to die in a hospital. I'm going to make damn sure when it's time, she's tucked into her own bed and surrounded by those who love her." Raw emotions choked up his voice._

 _Emily wanted to dash around the table and give him the biggest hug she could, but she remained seated, silently cursing the rules preventing her from comforting her friend in his time of need._

" _Carolyn's lucky to have you, Dave. You'll take good care of her like you do with me."_

" _I'm the lucky one and yes I will. Like you said, there's always something special about the first."_

" _There is," she said with a tender smile. "Given my present situation I can't be there with you physically, but I can spiritually. I'm here for you whenever you want to talk, good or bad. I'm a captive audience so you'll always know where I am when you want to vent."_

" _I definitely will, Kiddo. Thank you," he said sincerely with his patented crooked smile, even though he still looked a little misty eyed._

" _You're welcome. You've been standing by my side since the day I was convicted. It's time I return the favor."_

* * *

 _After Emily and Dave's visit, there seemed to be a shift in roles. Whereas Dave had always been Emily's support system and sounding board, Emily was taking over that position for Dave. He was taking care of Carolyn and needed someone to talk to about it. Emily was more than happy to be that someone, and over the following months, their visits became like therapy sessions between friends. She listened and talked with him like he had done for her. It was beneficial for her, too, allowing her to escape the prison and her own problems temporarily. It felt good to help him after all he had done to be there for her._

 _As the weeks went by and she learned more about Carolyn and Carolyn about Emily, the two wanted to meet. Carolyn asked Dave to set that up, to help her meet the "other woman" in Dave's life. Though they hadn't met, Carolyn still felt Emily's importance in her life through Dave and just wanted the chance to thank Emily for being there for Dave and for, through her advice and talks with Dave, helping her as well._

 _Emily had no problems making that happen. She wanted to meet the one that got away from Dave. So, she had the visitor's application sent to Carolyn. Unfortunately, by the time everything went through and was processed, the disease had progressed to the point where any travel seemed impossible. When Dave told Emily how bad things were getting, she could feel the knots forming in her stomach. She wanted so badly to physically be there for Dave, to help him with Carolyn when he got overwhelmed or just needed a moment, but all she could offer was a chance to share his thoughts and feelings after the fact. That would have to do._

 _Still, every visit was highly anticipated. She wanted updates as much as Dave needed the occasional escape. He was finding it harder, though, to leave Carolyn because he didn't know how much time she had left. He was hurting, and that made Emily hurt._

 _About four months after learning about Carolyn and feeling like she knew her, Emily eagerly waited for the next update on visiting day. She went about her regular routine, waiting to be notified that she had a visitor. She waited and waited, checking the time every ten minutes. He was late. Dave was rarely late. Maybe he's on a case, she thought, but he usually sent her an email to let her know when that happened. Not this time though, and she was waiting all day. He never came. He never came and she could feel the bad feelings creeping in. Something happened._

 _As soon as visiting hours were over, Emily made a beeline to the cellblock's phone bank and got in line. When it was finally her turn, she punched in her personal phone access code and called the one person who could answer her questions._

" _Hey, Pen, it's me," she announced as soon as the connection was made._

" _Emily!" Penelope shrieked in delight. "It's sooo good to hear your voice. How are you? Are those nasty women still being mean to you?"_

" _I'm good and no. They've learned not to mess with me. Dave missed his visit today," she said bluntly, cutting the technical analyst off. She only had a limited time on the phone and she didn't want to spend it answering Penelope's countless questions. "He always sends me an email when he can't come and he didn't this time. I'm worried. Is everything alright?"_

 _A heavy silence hung over the line before Penelope answered in a subdued voice. "Carolyn took a turn for the worse last night. Dave has called in hospice."_

 _Emily's shoulders slumped as she leaned her forehead against the wall next to the phone. Her greatest fear had just become a reality. "I was afraid it would be that. Is Dave okay? Have you seen him?"_

" _No. He just called in and asked Hotch for some time off."_

" _How bad has it been?" Emily asked, wondering if he had been totally honest with her. She wouldn't be surprised if he held back, not wanting to lay all his troubles on her when she had plenty of her own._

 _But she had nothing to worry about; Penelope's answers were on par with what Dave had been telling her. The ALS was progressing faster than originally anticipated and was quickly taking over Carolyn's body. Each day she got worse and now she was at the point she was trapped in her body. It was past the point where she could do much at all, forcing Dave to hire a full time live in nurse to be there when he was working, which turn out to be not that often. He was taking more time off than he used. Even though Emily had heard it all before, she still wished she had a chance to meet her in person. It didn't matter if it occurred during a prison visit._

" _We're all going to visit and check on him. You know…see how's he's doing and if he needs anything," Penelope explained. "Of course we're not all going at the same time. We don't want Dave thinking it was some kind of creepy intervention, if you get my drift."_

" _I do."_

" _We decided Reid would go first," and then Penelope went off on one of her famous tangents. She told Emily the reasoning behind the order of the visits while tossing in little tidbits about the happenings in their lives._

 _Emily tried to get a word in, but the technical analyst had the bit between her teeth and there was no stopping her. Only when she glanced at the clock overhead and saw that her allotted phone time was almost up did she interrupt._

" _Pen…Penelope, my time is almost up so I got to get going. When you see Dave please tell him I have both of them in my thoughts."_

" _I sure will, Sweetie."_

" _Will you let me know if anything changes?"_

" _You'll hear it the moment I do."_

" _Thanks, Pen. I really appreciate it."_

" _You're welcome, Em. You stay safe and don't take any bullshit from any of those women you got to live with."_

" _I'll do my best. Bye," she hung up._

 _She slowly made way back in the common area of the cellblock and found an empty table. She sat down and rested her head in hands. She had almost said she would keep the both of them in her prayers, but she hasn't prayed in along time. Every time she had in the past, she never got the answers she wanted. Plus her prayers weren't going to change the outcome. Carolyn was still going to die and soon._

* * *

 _Four days later Emily got the news she had been dreading. Since she wasn't allowed to receive incoming phone calls she had to rely on her email. Once the workday was over and she was back in her cellblock, she went over to the computers to check for any messages as she did every day. There was one waiting for her and all it said was "call me". Stomach tied in knots; she got into the line for the phones and fidgeted. Time crept forward at an agonizing pace and with each passing minute Emily's anxiety grew. She was on the verge of throwing all caution to the wind, and risking losing some of her privileges and possibly spending some time in solitary, by cutting in line and commandeering the phone. Before she could act on her impulses, it was her turn and she quickly punched in Penelope's number._

" _When?" No hellos or how are you doing; just a sad need to know._

" _Early this morning," Penelope sniffled._

 _Emily briefly closed her eyes as she rubbed her forehead. "Did Carolyn…was it peaceful?"_

" _Yes. She died in her sleep."_

" _And…Dave?" She released a shuddering breath. "How is he doing?"_

" _You know our favorite Italian. Stiff upper lip in public and grieving in private."_

" _Could you—"_

" _Send him your love? Of course."_

" _And could you—"_

" _Send an arrangement of flowers in your name? I already have."_

 _At that Emily couldn't help but smile. "Thanks, Pen. What would I do without you?"_

" _You know I would do anything for you, kitten."_

" _I know." Her smile faded as she gazed off into the distance. "I knew that this day was coming and I was prepared for it, but it's still…"_

" _So heart wrenching," Penelope finished for her._

" _Yeah."_

" _Do you want to talk about it?"_

" _I would love to, but there's too many ears close by and this damn time limit."_

" _I understand. Want me to come and visit?"_

 _Yes. God yes, Emily wanted to say, but didn't because she knew how difficult it was for her friend to visit. It would be selfish of her to beg Penelope to do something she was uncomfortable with. "No. It's not necessary, but I do appreciate the offer. When's the funeral?"_

" _Wednesday."_

" _Make sure Dave knows that I wish I could be there with him."_

" _He knows."_

" _I hope so, but tell him anyway. And tell him that I'm fine. He shouldn't worry about coming to visit me or about anything going on here. He needs to focus on himself and making sure he's okay."_

" _I will."_

 _Emily glanced back at the line behind her and noted the glares being tossed her way. "Thanks, Pen. I got to go. Time is almost up and I've got people breathing down my neck waiting for their turns on the phone."_

" _Ignore them and take care, Emily."_

" _You too."_

 _Emily reluctantly hung up, already missing the comforting sound of her friend's voice. She returned the glares with one of her own before going to put in a request for an escorted trip so that she could attend Carolyn's funeral. It was a long shot, but she had to try. Her request was denied because Carolyn and Dave weren't part of her immediate family. Her pleas that Dave, though he wasn't related to her by blood or marriage, was her only family she had fell on deaf ears and she left the unit counselor's office in a fouler mood than when she went in._

 _As she stalked back into the common area of the cellblock, emotions she couldn't identify yet began boiling up within her. Not wanting to have some sort of meltdown in front of everyone, Emily headed for the one place that afforded her some privacy: her cell. Of course, the one time she really needed her privacy her cellmate was sitting at the desk writing a letter._

" _Get out!" Emily said sharply._

 _Her cellmate opened her mouth to argue that it was her cell too and she has every right to be there. And just because Emily used to be a FBI agent, it didn't give her the right to boss her around. But after one look at Emily's face and clenched hands, she decided it wasn't worth the effort. She was going to be paroled next month and would be rid of once and for all the ex-Fed and probably snitch. Snatching up her stationary, she stormed off to the common area to finish her letter._

 _Emily watched her leave, unrepentant for her words. She detested the woman and was sure the feeling was mutual. She couldn't wait for the woman to be paroled and hopefully get another cellmate who was less grating on her nerves. Now that she was alone she was free to pace, not that she had a lot of room to do so. Her cell was only 6x9, which is about the same size of her bathroom at her old apartment. If the door were an actual door, and not a sliding wall of bars, she would have slammed it shut._

 _As she paced, Emily was able to finally name the emotions she was feeling. It was frustration and an intense sense of helplessness. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this powerless. The one time she really needed to be at Dave's side supporting him in his greatest time of need, she was stuck in this goddamn hellhole of a prison doing ten years for a crime she didn't commit. None of it was fair: her wrongful conviction, not being there for Dave and the prison staff denying her request to attend the funeral. Her hands shook with a sudden rush of anger. Unable to contain it, Emily lashed out, slamming her clenched fist into the nearest wall. Unfortunately prison walls were composed of concrete and not drywall._

 _Her hand exploded in pain. Gasping at its intensity, she collapsed onto the lower bunk and clutched the injured limb to her chest. "Stupid, stupid, stupid," she chastised herself through clenched teeth._

 _What a boneheaded move on her part. There were better and less painful ways to dispel anger than trying to punch a hole in a rock solid wall. She could have meditated or walked it off with multiple laps around the exercise yard. Even a game of softball would have done the trick. It would have given her a chance to whack the crap out off the ball. But no, she had to do it the hard way by breaking her hand._

 _A quick glance told Emily that the hand was already swelling and when she tried to wiggle her fingers, sharp pain shot through them and up her arm. Now she has to ask to be escorted to the infirmary and explain to the guards and the doctor how she came about breaking her hand. She wouldn't mention she did it out of anger, but out of frustration because they might assume she couldn't control her temper and have her take anger management classes. It was already bad enough that she was forced by the court to attend weekly AA meetings for her nonexistent drinking problem. Emily sighed and stood up while at the same time using her good hand to wipe away the tears generated by the pain. It was time to pay the piper._

* * *

 _When the guard came strolling by her cell, Emily was genuinely surprised when he stopped and called her name. She looked at him curiously when he told her that she had a visitor._

" _A visitor?" she asked. "Who?"_

 _That earned her a glare. "What do I look like, your event coordinator? How the hell am I supposed to know? You'll find out when you find out. Get moving. You don't have all day."_

 _Emily hopped down from the top bunk, accepted the visiting pass and set off for the processing center. She, now, was even more curious and surprised. It had been a little over a week since Carolyn's funeral, so it couldn't be Dave, could it? But he was her only visitor. There was no one else. But what if there was? Her hopes were rising momentarily. What if one of the team finally came to their senses and wanted to see her? She could hope, but she didn't think that was really the case._

 _It's not them, she told herself so she wouldn't be disappointed as she submitted to the strip search. It's Dave. She knew it was. But what was he doing here? He needed time to grieve and heal. A week was not long enough time. Was there a problem? An emergency? Was that why he was here?_

 _Her head was swimming with the possibilities as the guard escorted her into the visitation area. Through the bars she saw Dave sitting at one of the tables, the snacks and Coke he always bought for her from the vending machines, arranged in a neat line. He was gazing at his hands apparently deep in thought. He looked so sad. Emily turned to the guard to ask if she could give her friend a longer hug than was normally allowed because his wife died last week. It was a minor white lie, but it got the guard to agree, warning this was a one-time exception._

 _As soon as Dave heard the barred door sliding open, he stood up, slapping a warm and welcoming smile on his face to hide his sadness. Emily made a beeline for him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug._

" _I'm so sorry, Dave," she said softly._

 _He hesitated for a brief second before returning the hug twofold. "Thank you, Emily," he choked out._

 _The two friends remained in their comforting embrace until the guard cleared her throat and they reluctantly separated._

" _No crying." Dave pointed a finger at her as they assumed their seats at the table._

" _I won't if you don't."_

" _Deal." His eyes immediately went to the white short arm cast encasing her right hand and fingers except for her index finger and thumb. "Did you get into another fight?" Now he was searching her face for any cuts and bruises._

 _Emily looked down at her broken hand. "No. I did something stupid."_

" _What did you do?"_

" _I punched a wall," she said with an embarrassed smile, running her thumb over the rough surface of the cast._

" _That was stupid. So what prompted you to do such a thing?"_

 _She sighed softly. "I was feeling frustrated and helpless."_

" _About what?"_

" _About everything. Carolyn's death. Not being there for you. Never getting to meet her. The staff refusing to grant me permission to attend the funeral because you're not family. Me stuck in this fucking prison for the next ten years."_

" _I appreciate that it all means so much to you…but that's life, kiddo. It's not always about fair and just. It's about dealing with what is."_

 _Trust Dave to tell it as it is. That's what she loved about him. He was never afraid to tell the truth. "I know. I'm trying but…"_

 _He leaned forward. "Emily, you've been here for me since I told you about Carolyn's illness. You may not have been at the funeral physically, you were there spiritually and that meant a lot to me. Oh, thank you for the flowers. They were beautiful."_

 _Emily grinned at that. "I hope I didn't go overboard on them," she quipped, having no clue how big of an arrangement Penelope had purchased in her name."_

" _They were perfect and put the rest of them to shame," Dave said, joining in on the teasing._

" _I do know my flowers."_

 _They looked at each other and then burst into laughter._

" _Quiet down," one of the guards warned as she walked past their table._

" _Sorry," Emily and Dave responded at the same time, sharing a conspirator look as they did so._

" _I needed that," Emily told Dave once the guard was out of earshot._

 _To prevent their moods from darkening, they switched to lighter subjects. Both knew they would have to talk about Carolyn's death, but not today. Before they knew it, the bell rang, indicating visiting hours were over and they had to wrap it up. Emily sighed. The visits always went too quickly._

" _Thank you for coming," she said, standing to give him a departing hug._

" _Always. Same time in two weeks barring a case?"_

" _I'll be here. I always am."_

* * *

Emily stood next to Dave as he got the picnic basket out of the trunk. "It's beautiful here," she observed, eyes taking in the mature trees and the upright headstones.

"It's a older section of the cemetery where they don't require the headstones to be even with the ground for easy mowing," Dave explained as he closed the trunk and weaved his way through the graves. Emily followed carrying the flowers she picked up along the way because it didn't feel right to show up empty handed.

Eight rows in he stopped, gazing down at a headstone with a sad smile. "Hello, Carolyn. I've finally brought Emily along for a visit."

Emily smiled self-consciously. She always felt silly standing there talking to a plot of earth and a headstone, but many people found it comforting, including Dave, so she wasn't going to do anything to ruin it for him. "Hi. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she said, stepping forward to place the flowers at the base of the stone.

"They look nice."

"They do."

Stepping aside to allow room for Dave to spread the blanket and unpack the basket, Emily let her gaze drift over the other residents of the cemetery. One headstone to the left of Carolyn's caught her attention. Leaning over, she brushed away some of the stray grass clippings, sucking in her breath when she read the name.

"Oh, Dave," she whispered.

"What was that?" he asked, hearing her mumble.

"Nothing."

She didn't want to bring it up, but she did want to know about him. She wanted to know about James David Rossi.

Dave followed her gaze and smiled sadly. "He was going to be the chip off the old block with his old man's rugged good looks and his mother's eyes and red hair."

"A red headed Italian?" she said joining him on the blanket.

"Yup." He opened the bottle of non-alcoholic cider and poured her a glass. "He would have had the ladies swooning at his feet."

Emily chuckled as she accepted the glass. "How did he die if you don't mind me asking?"

A minute passed before he spoke. "He was stillborn. Everything seemed fine right up to the birth."

"I'm so sorry, Dave."

"It is what it is," he said with a sad shrug. "It was also one o the reasons why our marriage eventually broke up."

"No parent should outlive their children."

"That's the hardest part. James never got a chance to live, to draw his first breath. We had such big plans for him."

"Tell me," Emily prompted softly.

Dave gazed at the two headstones, one brand new and the other weathered with age, for such a long time Emily thought he was finding it too painful to share, but then he began speaking. At first the words came out slowly, but as he got more comfortable talking about his late son, they flowed more freely. Learning about James allowed Emily to see a whole new side of Dave. A side she liked and probably explained why he stuck with her through thick and thin.

"You would've made a great dad," she said when he was done.

"You think so?" he asked, taking a sip of the cider to rewet his throat that was feeling parched from all the talking.

Emily shook her head. "I don't think so, Dave, I know so. You've been more of a father to me than my own was. You supported me through what is probably the hardest part of my life and not disowned me like my mother did when I become too much of an embarrassment."

"I would never do that. You continue to love your children even when they make mistakes."

"You've just proved my point." Emily raised her glass in toast. "To James and Carolyn. May they have found each other and are happy."

"I'll drink to that," he agreed, clinking glasses with her. "Thank you for coming along, Emily."

"It's my pleasure. I've been waiting for you to ask me to tag along. Now tell me how the two of you met. I've been dying to know."

Dave groaned. "That's a bad pun, given where we are."

"I know," she said with a grin. "Now spill it." And he did.


	19. Chapter 19

Reid let out a growl of frustration. Computers hated him with a passion, especially when he asked it to do a simple search. He would type in one thing and he would end up on some obscure site that had nothing to do with what he was looking for. After the twentieth try, he threw in the proverbial towel and went to the one person who could find what he needed with one hand tied behind her back and the other clutching a fuzzy pen. This was better than throwing the computer across the bullpen. Swiping his card in the reader, he gained access to the lair of the Goddess of Supreme Knowledge.

Penelope was hunched over her keyboard, typing away as she stared intently at what was scrolling across the screen. He knocked, and when he didn't get an answer, he entered and came to a stop behind her. Curious, Reid leaned in to read over her shoulder and unintentionally startled her.

"Geez, Reid! Don't you know how to knock," she accused, spinning around in her chair to face him and almost bumping into him in the process.

"I did," he said in his defense, instinctively taking a step back, "but you didn't hear me."

"Try knocking a little louder next time."

"I'm sorry."

"Can I help you with something?" she asked, trying to block everything on the screen from view, but with Reid, a one second glimpse was enough.

"We're not working on a car accident," he pointed out. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," she said a little too quickly.

He pictured the pieces he saw in his mind. There were hints of a date, a last name that was familiar…Penelope watched as the light bulb went off in his head.

"Why are you looking at that?" he asked.

Curse that eidetic memory of his. Feigning innocence, she said, "Looking at what?"

Reid pointed at the computer monitor. "That's Emily's case. Why are you looking into it? It's a closed case."

"Because she said she didn't do it and I believe her."

He stared at her. "Were you at the same trial I was? The evidence against her was overwhelming. There were witnesses to the accident, the damage to her car, the victim's blood on the grill of her car, her injuries were consistent to being behind the wheel and her fingerprints were all over the open bottles. You can't dismiss any of that."

"She said she was framed so I'm trying to help her prove it."

"How do you explain her blood alcohol levels if she wasn't drinking as she claims?"

"Well…I don't know, but there has to be a reason. I believe her, Reid."

He let out a soft sigh. "Garcia, you need to stop enabling her."

She crossed her arms and glared up at him. "Enabling her? How is being her friend and wanting her to prove her innocence enabling her?"

Reid spun her chair around so that she was facing the computer screen. "Every time you do this, you're giving her an excuse to keep denying it. Every inmate and parolee," he hated referring to Emily that way, but that was what she was, "Say they're innocent because they can't admit they did it. For Emily to come to terms with what she did, the innocent lives she took, we have to stand united and not enable her."

"She's not just any parolee, Reid," she said stubbornly. "She's Emily, our friend and family. Ignoring her doesn't change that. You should be trying to help her by being there and getting her to see it your way, not by shutting her out completely. Maybe if you just talked to her, things would be clearer, but you just see the so called evidence in front of you. You're ignoring everything else you've ever known about her."

"Evidence doesn't lie."

"But it can be manipulated to make an innocent person look guilty."

Reid huffed in frustration. He wasn't getting through to her. Penelope was just as blind to the truth as Emily was. A fact is a fact and he's a firm believer in them. There had to be a way to prove that she's wasting her time, that Emily was an alcoholic and made a costly mistake. What he needed was evidence of her alcoholism and he knew where to find it.

"You can access inmate's prison records, correct?"

"Yes," she answered slowly, unsure where he was going with this.

"Good. Pull up Emily's records."

She did as he requested while shaking her head and saying, "Okay but I don't understand what you're after."

"You will in a moment," Reid said as Emily's front and side mugshots from the prison appeared on the screen. "Now go to her medical file."

"I'm still not following you, Reid. What does Emily's medical records have to do with her innocence?"

"Just check if she was in the infirmary early in her stay."

"But why?"

He sighed. Well, Emily is an alcoholic," he said. "So once she was inside and cut off from the booze, she would have went through withdrawal. It probably had been bad enough that the prison staff would notice and get her medical help."

"Oh," she said in a small voice and reluctantly opening the file, dreading what was there. She didn't want to find out Emily has been lying to her the entire time.

The file showed that over the five years Emily visited the infirmary on numerous occasions for treatment after a fight, twice for a sinus infection and for her yearly physical. Her longest stay at any one time was for three days after several inmates had assaulted her early in her imprisonment. Her most serious injuries were broken ribs, a cheekbone and hand.

Their reactions to the contents were polar opposites. Penelope crowed in delight, feeling vindicated, content that her faith that Emily was honest with her remained intact. She didn't see anything of interest besides the injuries she sustained at the hands of those horrid women she had been locked up with.

Reid stared at the monitor not believing his eyes. Where were all the symptoms of alcohol withdrawal: the headaches, nausea, tremors, anxiety, hallucinations and seizures? Emily was an alcoholic so they should be there along with a lengthy infirmary stay while they monitored her condition, but they weren't. That was going to be his proof beyond all doubt that Emily wasn't as innocent as she was claiming.

He straightened as he came to the realization that he could be wrong, that he, along with everyone else, had misinterpreted the signs of Emily not feeling well as a hangover. So many thoughts flew through his mind. Maybe she had sworn off the sauce after her arrest and went through withdrawal so that she would appear sober at the trial. Another possibility was that she had gone through withdrawal on the inside, but managed to hide it from everyone. Emily was always good a hiding how she was feeling. But the last thought was the most troubling. That his firm belief that facts don't lie had blinded him to the reality that Emily was innocent. If that was true then he didn't deserve her friendship. A real friend would have defended her and not abandon her to fate.

"This is great news," Penelope was saying, oblivious to the fact that he was trying to show that Emily was a drunk. "You just proved Emily isn't an alcoholic since she didn't go through withdrawal, but how can we use it to clear her good name?"

"I have to think," was all he said in response before abruptly turning on his heels and exiting her lair.

As she watched in confusion the door closing behind the dazed and distracted young genius, it suddenly occurred to her that she never did find out what had originally brought Reid to her humble abode. Penelope briefly considered going after him, but decided if it was really important he'd be back. With a shrug she turned back to her computers and their wealth of knowledge to figure out how to use what they had just learned to prove her dear friend's innocence once and for all.

* * *

Reid thought long and hard. He thought about it when they weren't on a case. He looked at his dilemma from all angles and eventually came to the conclusion that he was unable to resolve it because he was missing a major variable. That variable was Emily. He had to talk to her. It made him uneasy having it at Dave's or show up where she worked unannounced so Reid settled on one place he was comfortable with.

Now he could have made it easy on himself by taking the direct route and asking Dave where Emily went for AA, but he feared the older agent would alert her of his intentions and she would attempt to avoid him. So he chose to go the round about way, haunting the AA meetings Emily could reach by public transportation since she was barred from driving. It took a while, for there were quite a few meeting within his search area, but he did find her.

Quietly entering the church basement after the meeting had started, Reid spotted Emily sitting by herself in the back row. He slipped into the nearest seat and observed her. She didn't get up at any time and address the group, but sat listening intently to the person who was speaking. Not once did Emily give off the impression that she didn't want to be here, but, then again, she was very good at hiding her real feelings. When the meeting was over, he waited for her to get her attendance sheet signed by the moderator before approaching.

"Hi, Emily," he said in greeting with a small awkward wave.

Emily stopped in her dead in her tracks, giving him a good look over from top to bottom. "Long time, no see, Dr. Reid."

* * *

 _Emily wasn't surprised when she was notified she had a visitor and that it was none other than Spencer Reid. She had known that of all the members of the team, he had been the one most troubled by her arrest and conviction. Not angry like Derek or disappointed like Hotch, but hurt with a tinge of abandonment. She knew he would show up eventually since he had filled out and returned the visitor's application she had sent him. Reid had needed time to agonize over it and to work up his nerve to come for a visit so she simply had to wait him out. It took months, but he was finally here._

 _She accepted the visiting pass and headed for the processing center. Emily enjoyed the regular visits from Dave and JJ's occasional ones, looking forward to them for they were the bright spot in a monotonous week. But she hated what she had to go through for each precious visit. Before entering and after leaving the visitation room, she was strip searched to make sure she wasn't trying to smuggle contraband in or out. She felt dirty and violated after each and every one. It didn't make any difference that all the correction officers were women. They could be crueler than men._

 _Through the bars separating the two areas, Emily could see Reid fidgeting at their assigned table. And when she was escorted in, he jumped to his feet and nervously tugged at the bottom of his sweater vest. They smiled at each other and then went through the awkward dance of to hug or not to hug, finally settling for quick pats on the back. After settling at the table, they gazed at each other at a loss about what to say._

" _Hi, Reid," Emily said, being the first to break the silence._

" _Hi, Emily."_

" _How are you?"_

" _I'm good. What about you?"_

" _Also good."_

 _Opening comments out of the way, they fell silent again, studying each other. Dave had said Emily had been involved in several fights since her incarceration, but he couldn't see any signs of any recent assaults. That was good. Hopefully that meant they were finally leaving her alone. He hated the idea of his friend getting beat up regularly, but that unfortunately was a common occurrence in the prison system. But knowing Emily like he did, she probably gave it back just as hard as she took it._

 _When the silence stretched on longer than he was comfortable with, Reid awkwardly asked, "What have you been up to?"_

 _Emily gave him an 'are you serious' look, but quickly realized that he was. He was genuinely asking. "I've been doing some reading," she answered._

" _That's good. Reading is a good way to pass the time."_

" _I've got plenty of time on my hands."_

 _Not picking up on her tone, he continued. "You should find something new to learn while you're here. They have all sorts of programs. You can learn a new trade or pursue another college degree."_

" _Let me get right on that," she said sarcastically. She shook it off, knowing this was Reid and it wasn't intentional. She leaned forward, resting her folded hands on the table. "What made you come here today, Reid?"_

 _He fidgeted where he sat, a finger tracing a barely visible water ring stain. He swallowed hard and then blurted, "Why didn't you come to me?"_

" _Come to you?" she asked with a confused frown. "Come to you about what?"_

" _About your drinking," he told her. "You should've come to me about your drinking. I could've helped you. You know I would have understood, but I don't understand this."_

 _She sighed. "I know you would have, but I couldn't because there was no reason to. I don't have a drinking problem. I never have."_

" _But I saw you on those days when you came in with a hangover. It was hard not to notice."_

" _I wasn't hung over. I just wasn't feeling good. I had some bug that I couldn't shake. It's not my fault if you and everyone else misinterpreted it."_

" _Did you blackout all those days?" he asked worriedly._

" _Reid…come on."_

" _The first step is admitting you have a problem, Emily. Nothing will ever change if you don't."_

" _I don't have a problem."_

" _You do, and you need to realize that. You can say you had a bug all you want, but we all know what a hangover looks like."_

 _Emily fought to keep her temper from flaring. The last thing she wanted to do was to blow her top in front of the visitors, her fellow inmates and especially the guards circulating around the room. If they perceive her to be a threat, she would find herself face planted on the table, cuffed and ignominiously hauled out of the room. With her luck she would then be forced to take anger management classes to go along with her mandatory weekly AA sessions for her nonexistent drinking problem. Instead, she kept reminding herself that Reid's feelings had been hurt by an imagined slight._

" _I've already told you the truth. I wasn't hung over and I'm not a drunk. Do I enjoy the occasional drink, yes, but it's not a problem."_

 _Reid shook his head sadly. He couldn't believe how blind she still was to her own addiction, especially after her irresponsibility got two people killed. And that stupid stubborn streak of hers kept her thinking she had to handle everything on her own._

" _You should have come to me with your problem. I could have helped because I know what it is like to be addicted to a substance."_

" _You didn't ask for help. You just chose me to be your personal whipping girl. You took potshots at me every chance you had," Emily couldn't help firing back._

 _Shame for how he had treated her in the past flashed across his face. "Because I didn't know how to ask for help or think I could."_

" _And I was supposed to?"_

" _Yes, because I was where you were once. I could relate."_

" _We're talking in circles, Reid," she huffed in frustration. "I'm sorry you went through that, but I'm not you. I don't have a problem."_

" _Then how do you account for the alcohol in your system on the night of the accident?"_

 _Emily looked away. "I can't. But I do know I was stone cold sober when I went to bed."_

" _I really thought you, of all people, would be willing to face the facts and accept responsibility. I don't understand why you're not." Confusion puckered his brow._

" _Because there's nothing to accept. I didn't drink and I can't tell you how I ended up like that."_

" _You're right, Emily, we're just going around in circles. I can't help you until you admit you're an alcoholic. You have the next ten years locked in here to figure it out. I hope you do someday. I really want to be there for you, to be your friend, but I can't be an enabler."_

" _That's not fair, Reid," she scolded, hurt by his words. "You're not even hearing what I'm saying. I wasn't drinking."_

" _I'm hearing it, I just don't like what I hear."_

" _Not one part of you believes me at all, does it?"_

 _Reid gazed at her for a long time, trying to find the right words to convey what he was thinking. As soon as he opened his mouth, he knew she wasn't going to like it. "No. I'm a believer in facts. I've seen the damage to your car. I've read the police reports and studied the autopsy findings. I've reviewed you blood tox results and the injuries you sustained in the accident and finally, I've witnessed first hand your hangovers. All point to a dependency on alcohol."_

" _I'm sorry you see things that way. Looks like nothing I say will get you to see the truth."_

" _And nothing I can say can help until you admit you have a problem." He was dejected._

 _They stared at each other, realizing there was nothing left to say and both were disappointed at that._

 _Emily let out a soft sigh before saying, "It seems we're at an impasse."_

" _Yeah," he agreed with a sad smile and stood up. "I guess I should get going."_

" _Okay." She rose with him and then stepped forward to give him a quick hug. "Regardless of how this ended, it was good to see you, Reid. I miss you."_

" _So do I, Emily. Take care."_

" _You do the same. Stay safe out there."_

" _I will. Bye," he said with a small wave._

" _Bye," she said to his departing back._

 _Emily remained where she was standing until the guard took her by the arm and escorted her back to the processing center. There she striped down to her birthday suit and put her hands on her head. As the guard inspected her prison scrubs and body with invasive gloved hands, Emily gazed off in the direction of the visitation room. She had seen Reid's head and shoulders bowed with dejection. She had let him down. He was never coming back._

* * *

"Yeah, it has been," he agreed with an apologetic smile.

Emily went over to the refreshment table to get a fresh cup of coffee. She held up the carafe, silently asking if he wanted any. He shook his head. "Five years give or take a few months."

Reid almost rattled off the precise figure down to the millisecond, but wisely held his tongue. Emily didn't want to hear the exact time; she probably already knew it and didn't want to be reminded of it. "Give or take," he ended up saying.

"So how did you find me? Did Dave tell you where I was?" She sounded more curious than angry.

"I haven't spoken to Dave. I simply deduced that attending AA was part of your parole so I checked out the meetings that were in the closest proximity to Dave's. If none of the locations were a match, I would've increased my search area."

A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. "So basically you were stalking me."

Reid frowned. "I was merely looking for an opportunity to talk to you."

"You could have called or stopped by Dave's to avoid all that running around."

"I was uncertain if you would see me after how well our last face to face went."

"Good point."

He gestured to the door. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"

"Sure," she agreed, dropping the last of her bitter coffee in the trash on their way out.

They walked several blocks in companionable silence, each seemingly lost in their thoughts. When it became obvious Reid wasn't going to speak up, Emily took the initiative and stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Reid, why did you find me tonight?" Emily asked. "What is this about? We haven't talked and you made it clear that you didn't want anything to do with me."

"That's not completely accurate."

"From where I'm standing, it's a more then generous assessment."

He relented, silently nodding. "I guess…I'm just…I'm more open to hearing what you have to say now," he told her.

"More open? Why?" she asked suspiciously, gazing at him through narrowed eyes. "What has changed?"

Reid shifted nervously on his feet. "Well, I've uncovered some new evidence…"

Emily's demeanor instantly changed from distrust to excitement, tightening her grip on his sleeve. "New evidence on my case? Reid, why didn't you tell me you've been working on my case all this time?"

He freed his arm and took a few steps back. "It's not about your case. I'm sorry," he apologized, feeling bad that he had inadvertently gotten her hopes up and was about to shoot them down. "It's about you."

"About me?" she echoed, face falling in disappointment.

"Yeah. I know you didn't go through withdrawal while inside."

"I could have told you that myself if you ever stayed around long enough to listen."

"I know that now."

"How did you find out about it if you weren't working my case?"

A guilty flush crept up his neck and his eyes dropped to his shoes. "Garcia was the one doing the looking so I had her pull up your medical records. I was going to prove to her that you were an alcoholic by showing that you spent time in the infirmary for withdrawal."

"Oh... what else did you see?"

He stumbled. Not knowing whether to bring up what else he saw.

"Was there something else to see?" He asked, allowing her to bring it up if she wanted.

"You saw. I know you did."

"It must have been tough for you in there," Reid said, not directly acknowledging any one potential incident.

"I was alone, trapped in a cell all the time with a bunch of other women who hated law enforcement…it was a regular party."

He took her snappy tone in stride knowing he deserved it.

"I'm sorry. Whether you did or didn't do this, you didn't deserve it."

"Deserve what, Reid? To lose my freedom? To be abandoned by the only people I considered my family? To be paying the price for someone else's crime while everyone turned their backs on me?"

Shyly, he turned his face in shame. He may not have been totally convinced of her innocence, but there was evidence gathering to support it, and he knew that he could have been in the wrong.

"You didn't deserve any of it," he said. "We were…we were taken with the evidence and shocked. I know, for me, I was angry…with myself as much as with you. And I didn't deal with that well."

"Clearly."

"I'm sorry."

Emily slowly shook her head. "Sorry doesn't fix things, Reid. It doesn't give me back five years of my life. That's not enough."

"I know, but I still am." Reid took a deep breath. "Look, Emily, I'm not asking for forgiveness because I don't deserve it. But I would like to make things right between us. Maybe I can help with the case?"

She crossed her arms as she studied him. Reid was always easy to read and right now he appeared to be sincere. She knew she needs all the help she can get and having his genius brain on her side would be a big plus. But at the same time he hurt her like the rest did and that made her unsure if she could ever trust him again. Once someone broke her trust, it was very hard to earn back.

She pinned him in place with her penetrating gaze. "Are you serious about helping me or are you just humoring me to get on my good side?"

"I really want to help."

She studied him again before letting out a soft sigh. "Alright you can help but there are a few conditions."

"Name them."

"You are not to contact me again. I will contact you directly or through Garcia. You don't do anything without first consulting her and under no circumstances do you tell anyone else you're helping."

Reid was relieved she was willing to work with him after the way he treated her. "I promise, Emily. I won't let you down this time."

"You better not because if you do, we're through. You can just go to hell."


	20. Chapter 20

Emily's brain hurt. She looked through file after file, studied her suspect boards, spending every free moment she had searching for answers, yet she still had none. It had been months and she was no further along in absolving herself of the crime than she had been when she started. It was time to face the facts. She was looking in the wrong places. The answer wasn't in her past. It wasn't in the old case files. It was somewhere else, and she didn't even know where to start looking.

"It's back to the drawing board," she muttered sourly, massaging her forehead in a fruitless attempt to get rid of her headache.

With a sigh she started dismantling her suspect boards. Now that she was positive her framer wasn't up there, they were of no use to her. Even though she knew it was a waste of time, she wasn't quite ready to give up on this angle. She would let Reid continue shifting through them, hoping his fresh eyes will pick up a detail she missed. Tunnel vision kept her focused on this one piece and not on the whole picture.

Emily barely had one board cleared when the doorbell rang. She briefly considered ignoring it because she really wasn't in the mood for visitors. But the only callers she got were Penelope, Dave and Mudgie. Even solicitors and people intent on bringing you closer to God never graced her doorstep. If it were any of the three, it would be rude not to invite them in. With another sigh, louder than the first, Emily went to answer it even while her mind stayed on her defunct line of investigation.

Still distracted, Emily flung the door open without checking first to see who was on the other side. "Yes?"

"Hello, Emily."

Emily's eyes widened in shock. "Mo…Mother?" she stammered.

"May I come in?"

Numbed by her mother's sudden appearance, she automatically stepped back while opening the door further. Elizabeth stepped in, glanced briefly around the entryway and headed up the stairs to the apartment. A minute passed before the shock started to wear off enough for Emily to close the door and hurry upstairs where Elizabeth waited impatiently in the middle of the living area.

The moment her daughter appeared on the landing, Elizabeth said, "Why didn't you tell me you were out?"

"Wha…what?"

"Why didn't you tell me you were out," she repeated, speaking as if Emily was hard of hearing. "I had to hear about it from Muriel Bennett Archer and you know how much of a gossip she is."

"I do." If you wanted to get someone's dirty little secret out, all you had to do was give Muriel a holler and it would be all over the neighborhood before you hung up the phone.

"When were you planning on contacting me?"

Emily crossed her arms. "Honestly? Never."

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow, seemingly genuinely surprised by the answer. "Never?"

"Why should I?" she asked with a shrug. "The last time we talked, you practically disowned me on the spot."

* * *

 _It had been a long couple of days and Emily was desperate to get home and shower off the grime. Being held in a jail cell after being arrested was not fun, and definitely not something she was looking forward to if the trial went wrong. Even though that was the very real reality she could be facing, she just wanted to go home and not think about it for a little while. Now she was out on bail, it would have happened after the arraignment if it hadn't taken a few days to get it out of her trust funds, and thought that might actually happen; a small escape._

 _Unfortunately, the universe wasn't on her side. She was walking down the steps of the police station, looking forward to a little alone time before looking for a new lawyer who would fight for her, when she was confronted._

" _What the hell were you thinking?" an angry voice called out, making her still._

 _"Mom?" she asked when she turned around to face the voice. "What are you doing here?"_

 _"Me? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in jail?" Her tone was harsh and commanding and it made Emily feel like a small child._

 _"Not yet," Emily shamefully muttered. "I just got out on bail."_

" _Obviously." She shook her head in annoyance. "Emily, how could you be so stupid?"_

 _"No. Don't answer that. I'm sure it'll be a lie, and one I don't want to hear."_

 _"Mom…" Emily tried to get her mother to calm down, but the Ambassador was in full outraged parent mode. It made Emily feel like a small child facing judgment day, and her mother was always able to make her feel so small and so inferior. This time, it was worse. She felt like nothing._

" _No. Don't answer that. I'm sure it'll be a lie, and one I don't want to hear. You do realize you sullied not only your reputation, but tarnished my own, and for what? Because you aren't the woman I raised you to be? Because you thought getting into a car drunk was acceptable? Two innocent people died because of your stupidity."_

 _No matter what Emily tried, her mother just kept hurtling words her, and each one left a mark._

 _"I didn't do it," Emily said, her mother finally hearing her, but it wasn't really heard._

 _No, instead, Elizabeth laughed at her. She laughed and started in on another Emily bashing rant. "You have the audacity to say you've done nothing wrong or throw around accusations of being framed. My god, Emily, take responsibility for what you've done and the self-centered person you've become. I can't even look at you anymore." She waved a hand at Emily. "This…this woman in front of me is not my daughter."_

 _"Mom…"_

 _"No. Don't. I don't know what I did to deserve you as a daughter. I used to be proud of you. You turned into a strong, independent woman and I thought you grew out of your rebellious wild child stage, but it was all an act. I see that now."_

 _People were watching around them, amplifying Emily's hurt and humiliation. With her head bowed, she lost all fight and just took it. Everything her mother was saying kept hitting her like a slap in the face. Her mother was ashamed, and she said as much. She said worse. There was nothing Emily could do or say to get her mother on her side or even hear her out, so she became submissive, withdrawing from the moment until, finally, her cab pulled up._

 _"I have to go," she said, and quickly fled. She needed out of there. She needed to be alone, and she needed to keep her mother and everyone else from seeing the silent tears she couldn't keep from falling._

* * *

"I don't remember that."

"I do. I remember every word you hurled at me and how they made me feel. I was an embarrassment and unworthy of your love."

"That's ridiculous. Of course I love you. You're my daughter." And to prove she wasn't the heartless mother Emily was making her out to be, Elizabeth made a move to hug her.

Emily took a step back. "Actions speak louder than words, Mother."

"I don't understand."

"It was one of the worst times in my life and when I could really use your love and support, you weren't anywhere to be found. You weren't at my trial and against my better judgment I put you on my approved visitors list and sent you an application…an application you didn't bother to fill out and return. And if visiting wasn't your thing, you could have written." Emily held up her hand. "Do you know how many letters I got from you?" Her hand formed a zero. "Not one damn one."

Elizabeth reverted to the mother Emily knew and loathed.

"Well, Emily, I felt no need to fill out the application when I didn't plan on coming to see you."

"That was obvious, Mother."

"Don't use that tone with me. Prison was hard? Boo-hoo. You're the one who got yourself thrown in there. That falls on you. And your actions had consequences in the real world, Emily. You made bad choices and others paid for it."

"You mean others… like you?"

"Yes like me! You have no idea what you've done to me."

"Oh, please," Emily scoffed, "Please tell me what I could have possibly done to you."

Elizabeth's eyes flashed with indignation. "My career suffered because of you. In my line of work, it's all about reputations and perceptions. All anyone saw was that I raised a criminal… a murderer. I wasn't given assignments. I wasn't invited to my full social calendar. You almost ruined me."

Emily laughed.

"It is not funny."

"No, it's really not," Emily agreed.

It wasn't funny at all how clear it was becoming that she was right about her mother all her life. Elizabeth was cold and uncaring about anything and anyone that wasn't her or her career.

"I was ostracized Emily, like a child on the playground being picked on. Politics is full of wolves and I was a sitting lamb for slaughter because of you. I don't know how you could do this to me. I don't know how you could be so selfish and uncaring."

"Gee. I wonder where I could have learned that."

Elizabeth angrily sighed. "I thought you might understand and be sympathetic to my pain, pain that you caused, but I see you're as ungrateful and childish as you have always been. I lost friends because of you. I lost job opportunities because of you. And you're upset because mommy didn't show up to visit you in prison? I couldn't be seen there even if I wanted to. And why would I? Why would I ever want to see the mess you created out of the life of opportunity and stature that I gave you. You could have carried on the legacy. You could have been great. Instead, you'll be remembered as a disgrace to the Prentiss name. You'll be lucky if you find stable work picking up trash for a living. Trash! Maybe that's where you belong."

Emily wanted to fight back. She wanted to yell and give her all the reasons why she was wrong. But years of being forced into submission trained her not to. She wasn't able to fight back beyond what she already had. Instead, she was just sad. She was sad that the black void where familial love was supposed to be just kept growing bigger and darker. She was sad that she had such a terrible mother who couldn't even have been bothered to write her once in a while. She was sad that she ever cared when there was no point.

Her mother would never forgive her for a mistake that was not hers to begin with. How was she supposed to fight that?

"If you really feel like that, then why are you here?"

"I just wanted to inform you before you showed up on my doorstep looking for a handout that you'll get no money from the Prentiss accounts."

That probably means I've been written out of the will. "Even if I didn't have two nickels to rub together I wouldn't want that money. There are too many strings attached."

"Oh? You've found gainful employment?" Elizabeth asked, one eyebrow arching in surprise.

"I have and I enjoy it."

"Obviously it doesn't pay much since you're living over a garage," Elizabeth sniffed, looking over the apartment again with distaste.

Emily felt the need to defend Dave and all the hard work that was put in to make the place suitable for her. "Out of all the apartments I had over the years, this one by far is the best. The rent is reasonable and it's in a great neighborhood."

"If you say so. But then I'm sure anything, including this place, looks better than your cell."

Emily sucked in a deep breath and slowly released it. She had enough. "As much fun as it's been trading insults with you, it's time for you to leave. You've delivered your message and I have more important things to do." Like finding the scumbag who framed me. "Good day, Mother."

"Good day to you, Emily," Elizabeth said, allowing her daughter to escort her down to the door. Standing on the threshold, she added, "And when you get into trouble again, don't come crying to me."

"I wouldn't in a million years," Emily retorted, slamming the door shut with more force than she intended.

Sergio greeted her when she returned to the main floor by twining around her ankles. Emily scooped him up and scratched him under the chin.

"You were smart to hide because my mother is a nasty woman who probably would have tried to stomp on your tail."

The cat stared at her with big, round green eyes. "I know that's horrid, but I wouldn't let her do that to you." She sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead in an attempt to stave off the headache. "God, I could use a stiff drink right now."

Emily was seriously thinking of violating her parole by raiding Dave's liquor cabinet for a glass of single malt scotch when the doorbell rang.

"Merde!" She swore, dropping Sergio. "Doesn't she know when to give up?"

In a huff, she stomped back down the stairs and threw open the door. "What do you want now?" Emily demanded angrily.

"Uh…" Dan Halvorson stammered, startled beyond words by her reaction to his presence.

Emily blushed a bright red when she realized it was the building contractor and not her mother coming back for round two. God, this is so embarrassing, yelling at the man who once flirted with her.

"I'm so sorry," she hastily apologized. "I thought you were someone else."

Dan quickly recovered his composure. "No problem, but I do feel bad for the person who offended you."

"I wouldn't waste the on her. So what can I help you with?"

 _She's more beautiful than the last time I saw her,_ he thought to himself. _I guess absence does make the heart grow fonder._

He pointed to the box at his feet. "Mr. Rossi asked me to install a dog door. Apparently his dog spends a lot of time over here." _I would too,_ he silently added. _The dog has excellent taste._

"That he does." It sounded good to her because she had to admit she was getting tired of going up and down the stairs to let Mudgie in and out. "Where will you install it?"

"Right here next to the door. Any problem with that?"

Emily started to shake her head, but changed her mind. "I have a cat and I don't want him to get out through it."

"No worries, Ms. Prentiss," Dan reassured her. "This is the top of the line dog door. It's activated by a sensor on the dog's collar or a microchip so your cat can't get out." He grinned. "Unless he hitches a ride on the dog."

Emily chuckled. He has a quirky sense humor. "I highly doubt that and you can call me Emily. They may get along, but not to that extreme."

Dan's grin grew wider. He had gotten her to chuckle and it was a pretty one at that. "I kind of figured that."

"Well, I better let you at it," she said, returning the smile. "If you need anything Mr. Halvorson, just give a holler."

"It's Dan and I will." He tipped his baseball hat at her before getting to work.

Shaking her head in amusement, Emily returned to her study and the dismantling of her suspect boards. She knew what Dave was up to. Mudgie really didn't need a doggie door. This was another attempt to get her to resume dating. Ever since the apartment warming party, he and Penelope have been all over her love life or more precisely…her lack of one. She should never have brought it up in the first place.

* * *

 _Emily dropped the key to the garage apartment into Dave's outstretched hand the night he returned from a case. "Here's the key to the apartment. It's all done."_

 _Dave knew Emily. He knew she has a curious mind and probably couldn't resist the urge to take a quick peek. So as he closed his fingers over the key, he decided to test his little theory._

 _"Great. How did it look?"_

 _"It looks really nice. The contractor did a good job."_

 _As much as he was thrilled that she had explored the apartment, especially since he had it designed with her in mind, something more intriguing was going on. Emily blushed when she said contractor and she rarely did that._

 _He arched an amused eyebrow. "You're blushing."_

 _"No I'm not," she denied, turning a deeper shade of red._

 _"Yes you are. So what gives?"_

 _Emily sighed, silently cursing her pale complexion. "I think the contractor was flirting with me. Correction…he was flirting with me."_

 _"And that's a problem?"_

 _"No. Never said it was."_

 _"You didn't have to say it," he told her._

 _"The last time someone flirted with me, it was a two hundred pound woman that wanted me to be her prison bitch."_

 _Dave blinked, one of the few times he was at a loss for words. "That's…unfortunate."_

 _"Obviously, that didn't go anywhere. Rules and whatnot," she joked. In reality it did happen, but Emily made it clear in no uncertain terms to anyone within hearing that she wasn't ever going to be anyone's bitch._

 _"I still don't see the problem."_

 _"I'm an ex-con. That makes dating a whole lot messier."_

 _"Not everyone is going to look at you differently or treat you differently because you've committed a crime," he said with a shake of his head._

 _Emily laughed. "Really, Dave? I'm willing to bet that nine out of ten guys would run after they heard ex-con. The last one would either be a con himself or have some kind of fetish. Either way, not a great match."_

 _"Your situation is what you make of it. I've never known you to be afraid to put yourself out there."_

 _"I'm a different me now," she countered. "Isn't that the point? Even I don't know who I am anymore. How can I expect to be any good at dating? I never really was to begin with. Now I have more baggage."_

 _"You should give dating a try. Don't hide."_

 _"Let's face it. No one is going to want me. They may accept the ex-con part at first, but they'll inevitably dig and everything will fizzle."_

 _"You're selling yourself short," he counseled. "You don't have to tell them immediately that you're an ex-con. Just go on a date and test the waters."_

 _"I don't know."_

 _Dave spread his hands. "If it doesn't pan out, no harm done. If you enjoyed it and want to go on a second date, then you can consider telling him."_

 _Emily crossed her arms and shook her head. "I don't want to get invested in something that's not going to work because some guy won't accept my past."_

 _"You're going to become a hermit, then?"_

 _"Maybe," she hedged._

 _"That's not healthy, Emily. You can't stay holed up in your room, only coming out to go to work."_

 _"It worked well when I was in prison…not that I had much of a choice in the matter. It was either work or lose all my privileges."_

 _"You have a choice now," he pointed out._

 _"I do, and it's mine to make," Emily said and to make sure she had the final word, she left his study._

 _Dave watched her go, letting Emily think the issue was dead and buried. But in his mind it was far from over. She may think avoiding dating is a good thing, but he wasn't going to let her waste away into seclusion. Come hell or high water he was going to make it happen even if he had to personally shove her into the deep end of the dating pool. He has the who, all he needed was the how._

* * *

Emily vowed to stick to her guns, no matter how much Dave and Penelope meddled in her love life. She was perfectly content being single and didn't need to make things more complicated by getting involved with a guy. Yes Dan Halvorson was handsome, had a crooked smile she found charming, had a quirky sense of humor and was still actively flirting with her, but it wasn't enough to lure her back into the dating scene.

That was what she kept telling herself later as she watched Dan demonstrate how the settings on the dog door worked. Liking what she saw, she asked him if he could put in a cat door upstairs so that Sergio could have access the deck where he liked to sunbathe whenever he could get out there. He said it would be no problem and would be back soon to install it. Dan was back the next day and had it installed in no time flat. As he was getting ready to leave, he surprised her by asking if she would like to go out to dinner. Emily then surprised herself by saying yes.


End file.
